Sacrifice
by Gmariam
Summary: When Jack is inexplicably injured by a brilliant enemy from the future, the consequences quickly threaten the very fabric of space and time, forcing Ianto to make the hardest decision of his life: accept Jack's mortal death and watch time unravel, or save the universe and condemn Jack once more to an eternity of immortality. Complete.
1. Chapter One

I._ Time changes everything except something within us which is always surprised by change. ~Thomas Hardy _

The night was cold and damp, typical for winter in Cardiff, but generally a bad night to be out, and a much better night to be inside. To watch a movie, lie by the fire, or curl up with tangled limbs in bed. Instead, Jack was running down a pack of alien hellhounds through Bute Park, swearing under his breath as he pounded through the dark. Gwen and Owen had gone after a lone runner, while he and Ianto continued after the other two creatures, turning left and sprinting across the frost-covered grass. They crashed through a copse of trees and burst into a clearing, where they stopped in their tracks, the wrong end of a strange gun pointed straight at them.

"Bloody hell," Jack swore, falling forward as he tried to stop himself from slipping in the wet grass. Ianto ran up behind him and somehow managed to catch them both.

"Nice to see you too, Jack—what is it now?" The voice behind the gun was gruff yet cultured, bitterness and sarcasm clear in the deep baritone. "Harkness, right?"

"Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood," replied Jack. He recognized that voice, remembered it from his past. It shouldn't be here, _he_ shouldn't be here…

The man with the gun stepped out from the shadows of a nearby pine. He was tall, yet his formerly muscular frame was now thin and gaunt; his once handsome face was worn down with years, and there was a wild look about his piercing green eyes that Jack immediately suspected hid more than the deep resentment obvious in the man's words.

"Ah, Torchwood." The man nodded, sounding both angry and amused at the same time. "That's right, you're in charge now, aren't you?"

"I am," said Jack, his lip curling in disgust at the man's appearance and attitude. It reminded him of the night John Hart had showed up last spring, only this was worse: Parker Douglas clearly hated Jack with every fibre of his being. "What are you doing here?"

"What, no hug, no handshake—not even a punch in the face?" Douglas asked, his crooked grin more of a sneer.

"Jack?" asked Ianto, stepping calmly to his right side and eyeing the man before them. "Would you like me to punch him in the face?"

"Not yet," said Jack, trying to figure out what was going on. "What are you doing here, Parker? Last I heard, you were in prison on Volag-Noc." _In the fifty-first century, _he added to himself. That had been before Jack had met the Doctor, of course, but who knew how much time had passed for Douglas? He looked twice Jack's age now.

"All because of you," the man hissed. Jack felt Ianto gazing at him curiously, no doubt already turning over the man's response. "Have you ever been there, Jack? It's a horrible place…dark, cold…a frozen hellhole in the middle of outer space."

"I've been there," Jack stated simply. He knew perfectly well what it was like, even though he'd never been a prisoner there. He had endured his own personal hells over the years, however, and had little sympathy for the man standing before him, radiating resentment. Parker Douglas had gone to prison to pay for his crimes; Jack had done penance for his own and owed Douglas nothing.

"Twenty-five years, Jack," Parker said, green eyes blazing with fury. "Twenty-five years does things to a man, you know."

Jack's face hardened. "Try several hundred, sometime."

Douglas rolled his eyes and waved his gun around somewhat carelessly. Jack didn't recognize the weapon and knew he could not be too cavalier given Parker's history and current demeanor. "There you go again, Jack, always blustering in with a bigger, better story. Well, the universe won't have to worry about that much longer."

"Why, are you here for some sort of revenge?" Jack asked. Jack might have laughed in the man's face if not for the seriousness of the situation. How many enemies from his past would keep finding him, keep coming back for revenge? When would it ever end?

"Actually, that _is_ why I'm here," said Douglas, pretending exaggerated surprise at Jack's deduction.

"You went to prison for a crime you, and only you, committed," Jack pointed out. "Not my problem."

"Oh, but it is your problem, Jack," replied Douglas, "or it will be soon."

"Well, you can't kill me," said Jack with a cavalier shrug, unable to keep all his bravado in check; Douglas didn't need to know that Jack meant it literally. "And I won't let you kill anyone else. Been there, done that—not letting it happen."

"I don't need to kill anyone else, Jack. I _can_ kill you." The zealous light in Parker's eyes almost worried Jack, because this man believed what he said. He believed it was possible even though it wasn't, and Jack knew from experience that the power of belief gave men the ability to do unspeakable, almost impossible things at times.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but Ianto stepped closer at that moment, shooting him a warning glance that spoke volumes without saying a word: _Don't antagonize. Find out more_.

"I don't like to die," Jack said casually, crossing his arms over his chest. "And my team wouldn't like it either. So how do you plan on pulling it off?"

"I was a Time Agent, Jack," Douglas replied expansively, waving his left arm and clearly showing them the vortex manipulator strapped to it. Where he had acquired it, Jack had no idea; Parker's own wrist strap had been confiscated when he had been sentenced to prison on Volag-Noc, and he should not have been given a new one upon his release considering his past actions.

"I know things about time—how it works, how to manipulate it, how to change it." He watched Jack closely, a manic light gleaming in his eyes. "And I know what it's done to you, Jack."

"It's against regulations to manipulate the timestream for personal motives," Jack quoted automatically, Time Agent training drummed into him a lifetime ago returning automatically. He tried to ignore the prickle at the nape of his neck the man's other words stirred: _I know what it's done to you._ Very few people knew, and there was no way Parker Douglas could be one of them, not when he had spent years in prison, far in the future. "Orders only. Besides, trying to change time is what got you arrested and shipped to Volag-Noc. Are you under orders to kill me?"

"Oh no, once again it's quite personal," the man replied with a soft laugh. Beside Jack, Ianto tensed at Douglas's glib answer. "Besides, the Time Agency is gone, officially disbanded. There are only five of them left now. And no one is going to care about the death of a rogue Time Agent three thousand years in the past."

"Last I heard there were seven left." Of course, that had been from John Hart, and at that time for John it might well have been true. Time Agents did not always follow a linear timeline.

"Yes, well." Parker shrugged and fingered the wrist strap on his arm, the meaning clear. So that was how he had come by it, and how he had traveled back from the 51st century. "Things happen. Soon there will be even fewer, no doubt."

"Not if I can help it," Jack said, grinning suddenly to distract the other man. His hand moved to his waist for his Webley, reflexes honed after years of similar confrontations. He instinctively knew Ianto was reaching for his own weapon as well. "Drop—."

Parker stepped back, turned slightly, and shot Ianto in the hand before Jack had even finished speaking.

"Drop yours first," he hissed. "This won't be as fun if I have to waste another bullet on your mortal friend here."

Jack frowned at the use of the word mortal. Waste a shot? Beside him, Ianto had doubled over, right hand clutched to his chest. He immediately began to undo his tie, wrapping it around his injured hand, jaw tight as he stood straighter to face their attacker. "Something's not right, Jack," he murmured. "He knows something."

Jack hesitated, and the other man waved at the Webley. With a growl of frustration, Jack lowered his weapon, unwilling to take any more chances with Ianto's life. Douglas gestured for the gun, Jack handed it over reluctantly, and the former Time Agent tossed it behind him into the bushes with a manic grin. Then he held open his other hand for Ianto's gun and tossed that weapon away as well, a smug look on his face. Ianto glared at him the entire time, grimacing in pain; Jack wondered how badly Ianto's hand was injured.

"Good boy, Jack. Nice to know you can do what you're told now, even if you were a self-righteous son of a bitch at the Time Agency."

"I was following orders," Jack snapped.

"Ah, but see—you had a reputation as a maverick, Jack," said Parker. "Everyone knew you didn't _always_ follow orders. In fact, I know you lost two years of your life for it."

Jack blanched, and beside him he heard Ianto inhale sharply through his nose. "That has nothing to do with this."

"How do you know?" Parker leaned close and whispered almost seductively. "You don't remember."

Jack clenched his teeth as he thought about rushing the man, but Douglas still had a strange weapon trained on them and quick reflexes in spite of his age and imprisonment. Jack forced himself to relax, to check instincts that might make the situation worse.

"I was following orders," Jack ground out again. "What you chose to do after that is on your conscience."

"Because you don't have one, do you, Jack? Because you couldn't have just ignored those orders? You couldn't have played the maverick one more time and refused?"

"It was the right thing to do," Jack said simply, and Parker's face colored as he gave into his fury over what had happened so long ago for them both.

"She was my wife," he hissed, and he struck the butt end of the gun against Jack's temple, sending him to his knees as blood began to run down his cheek. Douglas pointed the weapon at Ianto again, motioning at him to do the same. "On the ground with him, hands behind your head. You know how it works."

"You said you weren't going to waste another shot on him," said Jack as he straightened and looked up into Parker's crazed eyes. He tapped the comm in his ear as he raised his hands, hoping that Gwen and Owen weren't too far away and would pick up on what was happening. "He has nothing to do with this. It's between you and me."

"I know. I'm not going to kill him." Douglas grinned ferally and stepped forward to run the barrel of the gun down the side of Ianto's face before turning toward Jack. "Someone should bear witness to your death, after all. One of your _team._" Ianto glanced sideways at Jack, an unasked question in his eyes. Jack shook his head in return; better to let Parker shoot him and believe him dead than to risk worse. Something was not right with the situation, but Jack couldn't put his finger on it.

"Now, I would apologize," said Parker, stepping back with a flourish and pointing the gun directly at Jack's chest. "But you deserve this, Jack, more than anyone in all of history. So instead, I shall wish you a long and painful death, with the hope that you rot in hell for the rest of eternity."

Without any warning—no grin, no blink, not even a twitch of his finger—Parker Douglas pulled the trigger, and Jack felt the bullet rip into his chest almost instantly, tearing through muscle and bone with blazing sharp pain. He fell forward onto his hands, gasping for breath as shock set in immediately. He sensed rather than saw Ianto grab his second weapon from his ankle holster, but Parker Douglas was already transporting away, and the bullets flew through empty air. Ianto swore as he moved toward Jack, catching him when he toppled over sideways and taking his head in his lap. Jack heard him call for Owen as if from a distance.

"Hang on, Jack," said Ianto, brushing a gentle hand across his face. "Owen's already on his way."

"I'll be fine," Jack murmured, wondering why Ianto was so insistent on calling the doctor for a relatively uncomplicated death by gunshot wound. Yes, it was messy, and it hurt like hell, but it didn't usually take that long to revive. He tasted blood on his lips and let his eyes close, waiting for that moment when he passed over and the darkness surrounded him, until he was pulled across the void and dragged back to life again. "I'll come back, I always do."

"Jack, what if something's different this time?" Ianto murmured. "He said that he knew you, that he knew time and what it had done to you. He said that he could kill you. What if he can?"

Looking up at the worried face hovering before him, Jack tried to smile convincingly through the pain. "Not gonna happen," he rasped. And yet, even as he denied it, he began to wonder if Ianto might be right. Something was different; he could feel it inside of him, moving already, changing him. It was as if cold fingers were wrapping themselves around each and every cell in his body, squeezing them of life and their unique ability to cling to it no matter what happened. It was different from anything he had ever felt before after being seriously injured, and Jack began to have his doubts.

Maybe he wouldn't come back this time; maybe this was it. Maybe Death had finally found him, after all these years, in the form of one bullet and a rogue Time Agent named Parker Douglas.

"No, not yet," he whispered, sinking toward unconsciousness as the pain became unbearable. He reached out desperately for Ianto's hands, needing to feel their warmth when Jack felt colder than he ever had before. He was not ready for this, not yet; he wanted more time. He'd just found something worth living for—someone he wanted to stay with for as long as he possibly could—and could not bear the idea of being ripped away from that so soon. "Not now. Ianto, I—"

But then the darkness overwhelmed him, and for the first time in over a century, Jack feared it.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much to my lovely beta, Tamaar, who has helped me hash out much of this story already and fixes the awkward the stuff so well. And to Cerih and Darcy58, my first wonderful sounding boards, who continue to support me and my crazy ideas.

This is my newest attempt at a longer story that explores the ideas laid out in the summary. Look for about fifteen short chapters, with regular updates and a possible twist or two. I do hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter Two

II._ There's time enough, but none to spare. ~ Charles W. Chesnutt_

Owen raced through the woods ahead of Gwen, hurrying toward the sound of Ianto's voice guiding him over the comm. Ianto sounded like he was in pain, but worse, he sounded worried, and even scared. They'd been shot, he'd said. Great. Leave it to Jack and Ianto to run off together after a bunch of ugly dogs and get shot.

What Owen couldn't figure out was the edge to Ianto's words. Was he badly injured and barely keeping the pain in check? Since Jack wasn't on the comm, Owen had to assume Jack was either dead or unconscious; either way, he'd bounce back. Jack had told him once that recovering from a gunshot wound varied between a few minutes and a few hours, depending on the severity of tissue damage and blood loss. Hell, maybe by the time Owen got there Jack would be gasping and flailing back to life in Ianto's arms like he usually did.

Unless, of course, tea boy himself was worse than he was letting on, and Owen found them both slumped over in the woods.

He finally burst into a clearing, where, sure enough, Ianto was sitting in the wet grass, probably soaked through already, holding Jack's head in his lap. Owen assessed the situation immediately: Jack was down for the count, and Ianto had his tie wrapped around his right hand. Even in the dark, Owen could see quite a bit of blood on them both, and since Ianto didn't appear to be otherwise injured, that meant it was probably Jack's, and it might be a while before he revived. So Owen moved to Ianto's side, setting down his kit and reaching out for the man's hand.

"No, it's Jack," Ianto said, his voice tight not only with pain but, even more so, the fear Owen had heard over the comm.

Owen looked down at Jack; he'd been shot in the chest and was still bleeding copiously. It had happened before. Owen had watched before as the skin miraculously knitted back together, and Jack slowly but surely recovered and revived from a wound that would have killed a normal human being. Owen had no reason to suspect something different would happen now. It was their one constant in Torchwood, that Jack Harkness could survive anything.

"There's nothing I can do for him," he said quietly, wondering if Ianto was slightly delirious from pain. "Let me see your hand."

"It's fine. I've wrapped it to stop the bleeding," Ianto replied, shaking his head. "You have to look at Jack. He's not dead. Something's different this time."

Owen frowned, taking out one of his scanners and running it over Ianto. It showed only the wound to his hand, with the obvious elevation in heart rate and blood pressure due to the physical stress. Ianto growled and batted it away.

"Dammit, run it over Jack! I'm telling you that something's wrong!"

"All right, all right," Owen said calmly, trying not to snap back when Ianto was obviously upset. Gwen burst into the clearing then and leaned over, breathing heavily.

"Ianto, are you all right?" she gasped. Of course they didn't bother asking about Jack anymore; he always came back. Ianto glared at her and turned to Owen.

"What does it say?"

Owen frowned, because something was definitely wrong: Jack was still alive, but his cells hadn't yet begun the basic regeneration process Owen was used to seeing on his scanners.

"How long has it been?" he asked, moving around to Jack's other side to have a look at the wound.

"Not even five minutes," said Ianto. "It hasn't started, has it? He's not healing?"

Owen was silent as he pulled open Jack's coat and shirt to inspect the wound; it was a typical bullet wound, just a shade shy of his heart, and it was still bleeding. Frowning again, he double-checked the scanners before he ripped off his own jacket and began to put pressure on the wound. Something was niggling in the back of his mind, that if Ianto was right and the scanners weren't broken, then he needed to get to work on Jack fast.

"Gwen!" he snapped. "Get the SUV. We need to get him back to the Hub as fast as possible."

Gwen nodded and left without a word, though she appeared confused. Ianto closed his eyes as she ran off.

"He's not going to make it this time, is he?" the Welshman whispered.

"He will if I have anything to say about it," Owen snapped. "You're right, his cells haven't started any sort of basic repair yet. Tell me what happened so we can figure out why."

Ianto opened his eyes and blew out a long breath. "We ran into an old friend of his…or rather, an enemy. Another Time Agent."

Owen glanced up in surprise. "Tell me it wasn't bloody John Hart."

"No, someone else. He had a history with Jack, too, and not a good one. I think Jack did something that helped put this man in prison. He came back to kill Jack."

Owen snorted and offered a weak smile of support to Ianto, who appeared more than visibly upset now. He was staring dully at Jack, his face lined with worry and pain. Ianto started to shiver, and Owen suspected the man was going into shock from his own wound and the cold. They needed to get both men warm fast. "Can't kill a man who won't stay dead."

"That's the thing," Ianto said, his voice rough with emotion. "He said he knew Jack, knew what had happened to him. The way he talked…it was as if he really believed that he could kill Jack. Forever."

"Not going to happen," Owen said, and Ianto started at the words before laughing nervously.

"That's what Jack said," he murmured, shaking his head as if in a daze. "But right before he lost consciousness he said something…"

They heard the SUV crash into the clearing then, knocking over several small saplings as it roared to a stop before them. Owen glanced up into Ianto's shadowed eyes. "What did he say?" he asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Not yet," Ianto whispered, ducking his head. "He said 'Not yet, not now.'" With a thick swallow, he met Owen's surprised glance. "He knew."

Gwen jumped out of the SUV and ran over to them. "Bollocks he knew," Owen snapped at Ianto. "He's not going to die permanently, not on my watch. Get in the back with him. Gwen, help us move him."

Together they barely managed to get Jack back the SUV, where they laid him across the back seat as best as they could, his head once again in Ianto's lap. Owen handed Ianto a clean towel from the boot.

"Keep as much pressure on the wound as you can." He tossed several blankets over them both so that they didn't get hypothermia, took out a hypodermic needle and, without a word of warning, stuck Ianto in the palm of his hand, earning a hissed curse in return.

"It's for the pain. I'll have a look at it back at the Hub after we've settled Jack."

"Shouldn't you be sitting here?" Ianto asked.

"Gwen, you drive," Owen ordered, climbing into the passenger seat. She once again obeyed without question; she must be rattled at seeing Jack in such a state to remain so quiet. "And no, I'm going to keep on these readings and call Tosh to have her get things ready for us." He turned and gave Ianto as much as of a smile as he could manage. "Besides, he likes waking up in your crotch much better than mine."

Ianto rolled his eyes, which meant the pain medication must be working already. The look on his face, however, was still one of deep fear, and Owen knew they would have to drive fast and work even faster to figure this out.

Because the readings didn't make sense: Jack was getting worse, not better. And Jack Harkness never got worse. Something was very wrong, and Owen just hoped he had enough time to fix it.

* * *

Tosh gasped when she saw them come down the lift, Owen and Ianto somehow supporting Jack between them. There was blood, so much blood, over all three of them. She had rarely seen Jack so pale and weak, even in death, and it frightened her. If it scared her, and it did, she couldn't imagine what Ianto must be feeling at that moment.

And then she realized that Ianto was injured as well, holding his right hand to his chest, his own face pale and dirty and smeared with either his own blood, or Jack's blood, or possibly both. Something had gone terribly wrong out there, something that had nothing to do with the hellhounds they had been tracking.

Rushing over to the lift, she immediately took Ianto's place under Jack's shoulder and helped Owen get the unconscious man down to the medical bay. Ianto threw off his wet overcoat and followed, and within moments Gwen came running in from the car park, her face mirroring exactly what Tosh felt: terrified and confused.

"What happened?" Gwen demanded as they laid Jack out on the table. Owen immediately stripped him of his wet clothes and wrapped him in the thermal blankets he'd had Tosh get ready. Then he turned on all the scanners, studied them for a few seconds, and shook his head.

"I don't know," Owen said. "He's not dead, but he's still not healing. I think the first thing we need to do is to get the bullet out. Maybe that will start the process."

"Usually his body just expels it," Ianto said quietly, standing at the foot of the bed and staring into a face that Tosh had only ever seen so still in death. Yet the monitors showed Jack was alive—barely, yet still alive. He had not died, but he hadn't started to recover either.

"Yeah, well, it's still in there, so maybe something about the bullet is stopping him from dying and healing himself." Owen turned to Tosh. "Scrub up, you're my new assistant for emergency surgery."

Tosh glanced at Ianto, who nodded in support. Owen turned to Gwen as Tosh moved away to start cleaning up. Owen rarely asked her to help in the medical bay, only when things got desperate; apparently this was one of those times. Taking a deep breath, she began to scrub her hands and arms, found gloves and gowns for them both, and listened over her shoulder to Owen issuing more orders.

"Gwen, take a look at Ianto's hand." Tosh could imagine Gwen's eyes going wide at the command. "He's been untreated for too long. I don't want him to go into septic shock or lose his hand to an infection." Behind her, Ianto began protesting.

"Forget it, Ianto. You need it taken care of. Gwen, drag his arse upstairs and clean it. I've given him a shot of morphine, but it will probably still sting. A good cleaning, then dry it and wrap it. I'll stitch it up when we're done with Jack." He began prepping Jack for surgery, hooking up IVs and gathering what he needed to save Jack.

Tosh hurried back to the table, where Ianto was now standing by Jack's side, holding Jack's hand in his own good one. Tosh touched him lightly on the shoulder, and he jumped.

"Let Owen do what he needs to do for Jack," she told him softly. "And let Gwen help you with your hand." Ianto turned to look at her over his shoulder, and she was slightly shocked to see how red his eyes were. She knew how much Ianto hated it when Jack died—it was difficult for all of them—but this was different somehow. Ianto was much more upset than usual, his whole bearing anxious and worried, as if he didn't believe Jack would come back this time. After a long moment of silence, he finally nodded and moved away. Owen returned, and Tosh helped him into his gown. He pulled over a tray of surgical instruments, looked up at Tosh, and gave her a very serious look.

"Ready?"

"Not to lose him, no way," she said softly, and he nodded in agreement. She saw him take a deep breath and knew he was settling himself for the task at hand. He'd saved all their lives at some point, but Jack had never needed saving, not like this.

Reaching over to take his gloved hand, Tosh squeezed it tight even if Owen couldn't feel it anymore. He looked as scared as she felt, because the thought of losing Jack to the one thing they'd never given second thought for was more frightening than anything else they had faced.

* * *

Gwen tried to keep her hands steady as she gently washed Ianto's wounded hand. To her surprise and relief, the injury wasn't as bad as it had appeared. Had he been shot through the hand, he'd probably need surgery and months of physical therapy. As it was, the bullet had grazed across his palm, leaving a deep, ugly, burn-like gash, it but had not penetrated the muscle or shattered any bone. He was lucky.

She was fairly certain, however, that Ianto did not feel lucky. Not that he gave anything away; he was stoic, staring straight ahead at something over her shoulder, his body rigid and tense, but Gwen could almost feel the fear and worry pouring off him. She tried to give him an encouraging smile.

"I'm no doctor, but I don't think your hand's too bad," she said, dabbing at the wound to dry it before she started wrapped it in a clean dressing. He tried to hold back a hiss of pain, but it must have stung. "Owen should still look at it because I don't know if it'll be wanting sutures, but at least you weren't shot through."

Steel blue eyes met hers for a moment before flicking away to stare back over her shoulder. Gwen sighed.

"He'll be all right, Ianto," she said softly. "It's Jack. He always comes back. If something's just taking a bit longer, Owen will figure it out."

Ianto actually nodded in response this time. He looked down before glancing into her face again. "Then why do I have this gut feeling that he won't?"

"Why do you think that?" asked Gwen, beginning to wrap his hand the best that she could. "What happened out there?"

Ianto ran his other hand through his hair and sighed. "He was shot by a Time Agent from the future, a man named Parker Douglas."

"Do we know why?" asked Gwen, trying to keep Ianto talking about the facts rather than over-thinking the possibilities.

"Something to do with Jack's work at the Time Agency. Something to do with the man's wife."

"Jack sleep with her, then?" Gwen teased, knowing she could get away with it because it was so far in Jack's past; he was a different man now. Yet where Ianto might have smiled once and rolled his eyes, this time he frowned and shook his head.

"No, I think she died. And Parker Douglas clearly blamed Jack."

"So he came all the way to the past to kill him?" asked Gwen. "Why would he do that? Why not kill him in the future?"

"He was in prison for twenty-five years," Ianto said, obviously trying to figure it out. "So Jack would have left the Agency by then and disappeared into the past."

"I wonder how he found him, then."

"He seemed familiar with the name Torchwood," said Ianto, narrowing his eyes as if recalling the moment. "He knew Jack was the leader. Maybe Jack made it into the history books."

"But then Jack would have known his own future, wouldn't he?" asked Gwen. Usually time travel confused her too much to even try to participate in a conversation about it, but that much seemed fairly obvious.

"He had a different name in his time," Ianto murmured. "He's a different man now."

Of course, she thought to herself. Jack Harkness was the name he had assumed after he had left the Time Agency and first come to earth. So the question was how Parker Douglas had associated the name of a World War II soldier with the Time Agent he was so furious with. Ianto shook his head when she asked.

"I don't know. But something was different, Gwen—something about the way Douglas looked at Jack. It was like he knew Jack was immortal, but had absolute confidence that he could kill Jack. He said something about wasting a shot on me and referred to me being mortal."

Gwen taped the wrapping and stepped back. Ianto held his hand in front of him and raised an eyebrow; his entire hand was covered in white gauze, and he could only wiggle his fingertips. "Use enough then?" he asked dryly, and she couldn't help but laugh nervously as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm sorry, I really don't know what I'm doing. How does it feel?" she asked.

"Still numb, although I'm sure that won't last for long." He stood and sighed, rolling his neck and stretching his arms. "I need to check on Jack. And we still need to deal with those hellhounds. We've completely forgotten about them."

"Go and clean up first," Gwen said, guiding him toward the showers with a firm but gentle voice. "Get out of those wet clothes." Inside she was swearing, because he was right; someone had to go back out, and she was the best choice given that Ianto was injured and the others were busy.

"But what if—" he started, and Gwen cut him off.

"Don't even think about it. Tosh and Owen are taking care of Jack. He'll be fine, you'll see. And then we can give him a hard time for scaring us."

Ianto nodded, his energy clearly starting to fade. It had been a long day, and he'd been chasing after alien hellhounds only to be shot in the hand; he needed to rest, though Gwen knew how unlikely that was for any of them. But first he needed to clean up, and then he could see to Jack.

"Go," she ordered, pulling a face at him and making shooing motions with her hands. "You're still soaking wet and covered in blood. Get a shower, but keep that hand dry. I worked hard on it. Hopefully they'll be done when you're out, and maybe Jack will even be awake."

This time he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, so much like Jack that Gwen almost thought her composure might break. "Thank you, Gwen. What about the hellhounds?"

She sighed. "I'll call Rhys, maybe he can help. Or at least back me up."

Ianto frowned at that idea, and she took his good hand and squeezed. "We'll be fine. You stay here. You're injured."

"My other hand is fine," he protested. "I can still fire a gun—"

"Stay with Jack," Gwen interrupted him again. "He needs you more."

"All right," Ianto finally agreed, sounding reluctant as he turned away. "But call if you need backup. I don't think we could handle anything else going wrong tonight."

"Of course," she said. "Nothing's going to happen, they're just big ugly dogs. And Jack will be fine. I know it." She tried to keep her voice from cracking as she watched Ianto turn and head toward the showers, praying that she wasn't giving him false hope. With a deep breath, she headed down to the medical bay to check on Jack before she left.

He'd come back. He had to.

* * *

Author's Note:

Thank you again to Tamaar for cleaning this up so well! And to all who have read, reviewed, and followed it already, I do hope you continue to enjoy it. The next chapter will follow Ianto and stick with him for most of the story.


	3. Chapter Three

III. _Time moves in one direction, memory in another. ~William Gibson_

Ianto stood in a corridor by himself, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes as he concentrated on taking one breath after the other to still his nervous heart. A shower had calmed him and left him feeling more composed after being shot and covered in blood and dirt, but now he had to go back and face whatever had happened to Jack. Was Jack recovering, was he awake and laughing, or had he died, possibly forever? When he finally felt like he had himself under control, Ianto stepped into the Hub, walking quickly toward the medical bay.

Tosh and Owen were still operating on Jack, trying to remove the bullet that had pierced him in the chest, and so Ianto leaned on the railing and forced himself to watch. If Jack was dying, Ianto owed him that much, at least. He couldn't hide away as if it weren't happening. He had to be there, be strong; he refused to be a coward.

Owen finally looked up and nodded with a clear look of relief on his face. They were finished with whatever they had needed to do, and apparently it had gone well enough. After scrubbing clean and changing, they came upstairs and joined Ianto, leaving Jack hooked up to the monitors below to recover. Tosh collapsed in exhaustion onto the sofa; and Ianto immediately sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms.

"Thank you," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple, knowing it was something Jack would do if the situation were reversed. She curled into him as they both turned to Owen, who was pacing back and forth.

"Well, we got the bullet out. It nicked one of his lungs, but we were able to repair that. There was a lot of blood loss, though. And I've never seen a bullet like this, so Tosh, we're really going to need an analysis of it as soon as you can." She nodded and started to rise, but Ianto pulled her down for another minute of rest before she began.

"What's Jack's status?" he asked. "Is he going to be all right?"

Owen's mouth opened and closed a few times before he shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I just don't know. Knowing Jack, I should be saying yes, of course he will. But I've never had to operate on him before, and it was a damn strange thing to have to do when I'm used to seeing him knit back together all on his own." He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "Maybe with the bullet out he'll start healing now. Or the trauma will kill him, and he'll revive, good as new. I don't know why neither has happened already as he's been shot before, but this time…" He trailed off with another shrug.

"This time it's different," murmured Ianto, nodding in understanding. He had sensed it almost from the moment Jack had gone down, from the way Parker Douglas had phrased his words and looked at Jack, as if the man had known exactly what he was doing and how it would play out when he had fired the gun.

"It has to be the bullet," said Owen, sounding extremely frustrated as he threw himself down into a nearby chair. "There's no other explanation."

"How could a bullet stop him from dying or getting better?" asked Tosh. There was silence all around, and this time when Tosh stood to move toward her station, Ianto didn't stop her, but squeezed her hand in support before she left. Owen stayed silent, apparently lost in thought.

"Can I see him?" Ianto finally asked.

Owen looked up from where he was sitting with his elbows on his knees, scowling at the floor in obvious frustration. He nodded somewhat absently. "Of course. He's stable for now. I've got him on fluids to help with the blood loss and antibiotics to prevent infection, as well as some pretty strong pain medication, so he won't be waking up for a while."

"Until he starts to heal," said Tosh from nearby, already running tests on the bullet.

"If he starts to heal," Owen corrected under his breath. Ianto stood, trying not to contemplate that thought as he turned toward the medical bay. He was grateful when Owen didn't follow. He needed some time alone with Jack.

Ianto pulled a chair up next to the bed where Jack lay, as still and vulnerable as Ianto had ever seen the man. It was not something he wanted to see ever again. Bad enough to watch Jack die and come back; to watch him suffer like this was almost unbearable. And knowing that he might not survive was even worse. How was it even possible?

This was Jack Harkness. He was immortal. He had died hundreds of deaths and come back from every one with that life-affirming gasp that stopped Ianto's heart each time he heard it. Something as simple as a bullet should be able to kill Jack, not when he had experienced far worse deaths. Something was wrong, but if something was wrong, then hopefully it could be fixed.

Taking Jack's hand in his own, Ianto closed his eyes and ran through the scene in his head. Parker Douglas, Time Agent from the future. Jack had done something that had obviously angered the man, something to do with his wife. Douglas had gone back in time to change it. From the man's angry, half-crazed demeanor, Ianto could only surmise that Douglas's wife had been killed, he had tried to save her, and in trying to change time for personal reasons, Parker Douglas had been sentenced to prison for twenty-five years.

Ianto was fairly sure he didn't want to know about Volag-Noc; it had obviously destroyed the man Parker Douglas had once been.

And yet, Parker Douglas had the knowledge and ability to kill Jack Harkness, the man who could not die. How had he even known about Jack's condition? He was from thousands of years in the future. Jack lived in the past. There was no way Douglas could have known.

And even if he had found out somehow, what could he have possibly done to his weapon and the bullet that could kill Jack? Or at least stop him from regenerating like he always did? Ianto had seen Jack shot several times; he had sat with Jack until the wound healed and closed, held him while he gasped back to life. Why hadn't that happened this time? Ianto hated watching Jack die and leave them, but right now he'd give anything to hear that gasp, because it meant healing and wholeness and life.

It was strange that a man _not _dying could invoke such fear, but then Jack was not a normal man.

Ianto must have sat there for quite a while, his thumb tracing circles over Jack's hand as his eyes dropped closed, until he felt a returning pressure and glanced up to see Jack stirring. Ianto gently squeezed Jack's hand to let him know he was not alone.

"Ianto?" Jack whispered, before opening his eyes and turning his head toward Ianto.

"You're awake," said Ianto, smiling as he stood and brushed some hair from Jack's face with his bandaged hand; it was a mark of how badly Jack had been injured that he did not remark on Gwen's poor wrapping.

"What happened?" asked Jack, closing his eyes again. He was obviously exhausted, and Ianto tried not to frown in worry. He was so used to Jack recovering quickly from just about anything that the fear was almost overwhelming.

"You got shot," he said. He paused, then added, "And Owen finally got to open you up to see what makes you tick."

Jack pulled a face at that, and Ianto chuckled quietly before placing a quick kiss to Jack's hand, which he still held in his own.

"What'd he find?" asked Jack, eyes still closed.

Ianto paused a moment, trying to come up with something clever and disarming, but his mind drew a blank. Instead, he debated how much to tell Jack before quickly deciding on the truth. Jack would want the truth. "He had to take out the bullet."

"Is that why I feel like complete shit?" Jack asked with a dry cough. "I've been shot before and haven't needed surgery. Did I die?"

Ianto shook his head even though Jack's eyes were closed; his silence prompted the other man to open them and gaze directly at him. "Did I die?" Jack repeated.

"No," said Ianto. "You didn't."

"But I'm not healing either, am I?" said Jack. "That's why he had to do surgery. My body didn't expel the bullet and start healing."

"No." Ianto didn't know what else to say. He'd never in his life imagined their roles to be reversed like this, for Jack to be the one lying on the table, critically injured, while Ianto stood with him and tried to explain what had happened. He had always assumed it would be him lying there—hell, there were a few times when he _had_ been lying there—and he had accepted his inevitable future for what it was: the price to pay for Torchwood, the cost of being with Jack. He knew his fate would hurt Jack—well, he suspected and secretly hoped Jack would be sad about Ianto's eventual death—but Ianto had never thought that he might have to go through this on the other side of the table. Not with Jack.

Jack sighed. "Parker Douglas. He really did know." Blue eyes flashed with pain and sorrow. "I'm sorry," he whispered, letting go of Ianto's hand to reach up and touch Ianto's cheek. "I never thought this would happen."

Tears pricked at Ianto's eyes at the look of sadness on Jack's face. He forced a smile and cupped Jack's face with his good hand. "It's not going to happen," he said. "You're going to be all right. You've lived too long to let a bastard like him end it now."

"Yeah, I would have preferred saving the world," Jack half laughed, half coughed. "Maybe from some big fire-breathing alien."

"You'll still get your chance," Ianto replied as lightly as he could manage. "Tosh is already looking into it."

"Into what?" asked Jack, sounding confused. "Fire-breathing aliens?"

Ianto almost sobbed at the unintentional humor. "No, your chance to save the world. All we can think of is that the bullet somehow stopped your ability to heal. We're hoping now that the bullet is out, it will start on its own." Ianto couldn't help but glance up at the various monitors as he spoke, and was disappointed to see that Jack's readings didn't appear any different; the man before him still looked to be on the edge of life.

"But how did he know about me? And where would Douglas get something that could do that?" murmured Jack, closing his eyes with a sigh, and Ianto thought Jack had fallen asleep until he opened them once more, bright with feeling. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Stop apologizing," Ianto admonished him, swallowing his own thick emotions yet again. "Tell me about Parker Douglas. Maybe that will help us figure this out."

"He was a Time Agent at the same time as me and John. A damn good one, too—brilliant, really. He worked on the technical side of things, more of a research and development kind of guy." Jack shook his head, wincing as he did. "I don't know what happened to him. He was a good man—decent and moral, nothing like the man we met."

"He went to prison," Ianto offered. "That obviously changed him."

"He changed before that, I think. Something snapped when his wife died." There was a long silence; Jack was not offering anything further, but Ianto felt that any information they had could help them figure out how to save Jack. While he normally would not push Jack to answer questions about his past, this was too important to let him come to in his own time.

"What happened to her?" he asked as gently as he could.

"I killed her," Jack murmured, turning his head away. Ianto squeezed his hand.

"Hey, I don't believe that. You said you were under orders."

Jack sighed and let his head flop back toward Ianto. "I was. I was under orders, and I followed them, and because of that, Samantha Douglas and a hundred others died."

A hundred people, pressing on Jack's conscience for so many years. "Was it necessary?" Ianto asked.

"For them to die? Yes. It was the research station where they were based or the entire planet they were researching. We couldn't save both. Parker refused to accept that. He went back in time to save Samantha, only to see the entire planet destroyed. Which was when I was sent back to fix it." Jack shuddered. "I had to let her die again, and Parker went to prison for what he had done in trying to save her. It was a real low point for the Time Agency, we lost a lot of credibility over it, not to mention funding and support."

"So even back then you had to make the hard decisions," said Ianto, smiling down at the remarkable man beneath him.

"And even then it was hell," Jack said, his voice cracking almost imperceptibly. "I left the Time Agency three months later. Between that mission and the memories they took, I couldn't do it anymore. I was already angry, and that mission just made it worse. I…well, I didn't want to end up like Parker, broken down by the Agency. So I went on the run, fended for myself."

"Until you ended up here and met the Doctor."

Jack nodded and let his eyes slip closed, the barest of hint of a smile ghosting across his lips. Ianto sat with him, thinking over this new information. Jack had left the Time Agency after Parker Douglas had gone to prison, and as far as Ianto was aware, Jack had not gone back to his own time once he had become immortal. So the question once again was how did Parker Douglas _know_ that Jack was immortal, and how had the disgraced Time Agent figured out a way to kill a man who couldn't die?

Jack was obviously too exhausted to talk anymore, so Ianto pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before leaving Jack to his rest. "Do you need anything?" he asked. "Something more for the pain, perhaps?"

Jack nodded so stiffly that Ianto was sure he must be suffering terribly, and yet he had not said anything the entire time they had been talking. "I'll send Owen," Ianto whispered, squeezing Jack's hand once more before he left. "And I'll be back soon."

He hurried upstairs to find that Gwen had returned and was standing with the others around Tosh's computer, whispering in low tones. He cleared his throat to get their attention.

"I think Jack could use some more medication," he told Owen, who immediately turned and hurried down the steps.

"On it," he replied, and Ianto could hear the doctor moving around the medical bay, speaking softly to Jack.

"How is he doing?" asked Gwen, glancing toward the medical bay as if she wanted to follow Owen.

"He's still not healing," Ianto replied.

"Did he say anything?" asked Tosh. "Anything that might help us?" Ianto shrugged, his good hand going to his pocket so the others couldn't see him shaking.

"A bit, though nothing quite as useful as I'd hoped. Have you found anything with the bullet?"

"Not yet." Tosh sounded extremely frustrated. "In spite of its odd design, everything appears fairly normal, and the unusual only thing I've managed to isolate is a bit of radiation. Do you remember anything about the weapon it came from?"

"It shot me," Ianto replied dryly, holding up his still over-bandaged hand and smiling wryly at Gwen.

"You should let Owen look at it now," she admonished him.

"I will," he said. "Eventually. Why did you ask about the weapon?"

"Because we thought maybe while Tosh and Owen worked on the bullet, you and I could go through the archives and try to find a match, or at least something similar," said Gwen. "Anything to give us a clue."

"Anything to give us a clue," Ianto repeated. He sighed. "Right. Good idea. A clue and a distraction. I'll go make some coffee."

As he moved toward the coffee machine, he could feel their eyes on his back. They were worried, and not just about Jack, but about him now if the look of sympathetic pity he had seen in their eyes was anything to go on. He needed to stay strong, though, because losing Jack would devastate them all, and Ianto wasn't going to let that happen if he could do anything to stop it.

Not yet, not now.

* * *

Author's Note:

Another tremendous thank you to Tamaar for looking this over and enduring so many emails from me about this story. I really owe you cupcakes.


	4. Chapter Four

IV. _You can never plan the future by the past. ~Edmund Burke_

Ianto had spent hours silently searching through the archives with Gwen, until it was past midnight and both of them were starting to nod off in their chairs. When his hand started throbbing, Ianto jerked awake from dark half-dreams with a sharp hiss, which caused Gwen to shake herself and glance over.

"Ianto?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Medication is wearing off," he muttered as he stood and stretched muscles stiff from sitting for too long. "I need to go upstairs and see Owen before I'm useless down here. Morphine and coffee, sounds perfect."

Gwen smiled in sympathy. "Right. I'll come with you, get some fresh air." Ianto quirked an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes at him in return, since the Hub was hardly the ideal for fresh air. "Well, fresher than down here, at any rate. Come on. We can check on Jack as well."

They returned to the main section of the Hub only to find Tosh dozing on her arms at her computer. Gwen bit back a yawn as she hurried toward the medical bay. Ianto gently shook Tosh awake, letting Gwen have a moment alone with Jack even though he wanted to hurry down there just as badly.

"Go home," he told Tosh. "It's no good staying up all night only to fall asleep on your work."

Tosh protested, but then Owen appeared, pushing Gwen out of the medical bay over her whispered protests. "Everyone go, I'll stay," he said. "You lot need sleep, but I don't, so I'll keep an eye on Jack." Now it was Ianto's turn to object. "You too, Ianto. He's sleeping now anyway. I'll call you if anything changes."

Ianto nodded, though he had no intention of leaving. He grabbed his coat and walked with Gwen and Tosh to the car park, then begged off, telling them he had forgotten his keys. Tosh gave him a look that clearly said she didn't believe him; he countered it with kiss pressed to her cheek and whispered, "I'll be fine. I'll sleep here, I promise."

She threw her arms around him and held on tight; he was surprised by the sudden burst of affection, but they both probably needed it. As a team, they turned to one another when one of them was injured, yet this was something new; they had never had to worry about Jack before, trusting in his miraculous ability to heal and revive. That it might not happen one day had always been one of Ianto's biggest fears, but Jack had assured him each and every time that he would always come back.

Why was this time different?

"We'll figure it out," Tosh whispered, as if she were reading his mind. "I'll be back in a few hours, and we'll figure it out."

"I know," he said, untangling himself from the embrace and gently pushing Tosh toward her car. "Get some rest so we can do it clear-headed."

"You too, Ianto," she said, and he nodded.

"I will, I promise." He watched her leave before he slowly headed back into the Hub, where he was met by Owen's skeptical gaze and caustic comments.

"And here I thought I'd have the place to myself," he said, sitting on the sofa reading a magazine.

"My hand is a bit sore," said Ianto, and Owen jumped up immediately, the sarcasm replaced by fast concern.

"Shit, let me see. I should have looked at it hours ago."

"It didn't hurt hours ago," Ianto replied, and Owen snorted in the same way he had when he was still alive. It made Ianto feel better, somehow, every time the doctor did something like that; it was as if Owen hadn't really changed.

They went down to the medical bay. Ianto moved toward Jack, asleep on the bed, hooked up to monitors that beeped and whirred and showed no change in his condition. He hadn't died, yet he clearly wasn't healing. Ianto hoped they didn't wake him, because Jack looked terrible.

He did not look like he was going to survive.

Ianto felt a gentle hand on his elbow guiding him away.

"He'll come out of it, mate," Owen said, moving Ianto toward a chair. "We're not going to lose him."

Ianto didn't trust himself to speak and merely nodded his thanks for Owen's words. He wanted to believe them, he really did, but every time Jack died Ianto feared this, and now it was really happening. He wasn't sure how he would keep himself together to help; all he wanted to do was fly apart at the seams.

They couldn't lose Jack. Ianto couldn't imagine a Torchwood without Jack Harkness: his leadership, his brash heroics, his shameless flirting. Jack had given his life to make Torchwood what it was, and though they had survived the months he had been away with the Doctor, it had been hard, and it had only felt right when Jack had returned.

More importantly, Ianto couldn't imagine his _life_ without Jack. He couldn't articulate why, because it was hard for either of them to really say what it was that they had between them, but Ianto knew that whatever it was, it was something he didn't want to lose. They worked together, yes, but they also ate, slept, shagged, and even showered together quite a bit. Hell, they practically lived with one another half the time, whether it was at Ianto's flat or in Jack's room at the Hub. It was quite possibly an unhealthy dependence at times, but one that neither of them would ever admit to or give up. Jack was his rock to rail against, an anchor that kept him grounded when Torchwood was sometimes too much to bear. And though he constantly questioned and often doubted it, Ianto knew deep down that his place in Jack's life was similar.

Yet they had both accepted without saying that his place in Jack's life was also finite and fleeting and would end one day, sooner rather than later. It was not supposed to be the other way around, not this way, and not so soon. Ianto would rather see Jack run again, see him return to the stars, knowing he was still out there somewhere even if he had chosen to leave; at least he would still be alive. Ianto had always feared being left behind again, but not like this; this was supposed to be impossible.

"Ianto." Owen's voice pulled him out of his bleak contemplation, and he glanced up to find that Owen had finished with his ministrations. The bulky gauze that Gwen had wrapped around his injured hand earlier in the night was gone, replaced by a simpler wrap that allowed him to actually move his fingers. The pain was receding as well, and Ianto flexed his hand, nodding his gratitude to Owen.

"Thank you," he said quietly, still not meeting the doctor's eyes, but watching Jack instead: the rise and fall of the other man's chest, the flutter of his eyelids, the lights of the monitor above him.

"He's not going to leave us, Ianto," said Owen. Ianto heard the doubt in the doctor's voice, though it was followed by grim determination. "We won't let that happen."

Ianto stood and took a deep breath before facing the doctor. "Did you know he has a DNR order on file?" he asked, the thought appearing from almost nowhere before he could stop it. "Do not resuscitate…or revive."

Owen looked surprised. "No, I didn't know that. I'm his doctor, how come I didn't know?"

"He kept it private." Ianto shrugged. "Like most things. He told me about it once after a particularly difficult death. He's obviously never had to use it and never intended to." The implication was apparently clear, because Owen bristled.

"That's not what I meant when I said we won't let him die," he started, and Ianto, too exhausted to argue, waved him off.

"I know you didn't," he replied. "But I thought you should know, in case it comes to that."

"So no need to find another Risen Mitten," Owen muttered. "Or a boot or belt or something similar."

Ianto let his head fall as he laughed through his nose. "No, nothing like that. I doubt we could, and he wouldn't want that. You know he wouldn't want it." He gave Owen a very pointed look that the other man couldn't hold for long.

"I suppose," Owen admitted. "Look…I may not be alive, strictly speaking, but I am glad to be sticking around a bit longer, if only to look after you lot."

"We're glad you are too, Owen," Ianto replied with sincere honestly. "I know it's hard."

"It's bollocks," Owen agreed. "But I also know what's out there, after. And Jack knows too. Do you really think that's what he would want, when he could have just a bit more time here, with us?" He paused and tried to catch Ianto's eye, but Ianto refused to meet his gaze. "With you?"

Ianto watched Jack and thought about those rare moments when Jack had let his guard down and allowed Ianto to glimpse the pain and heartbreak immortality had caused him. It was something Ianto wished he could take onto himself every time, the unbearable losses that Jack had suffered over the years, of not being able to die while everyone around him, everyone he cared for and loved, passed on and left him alone once more. It was incomprehensible, the eternity of pain that Jack would live through. Ianto sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe not now, not this way, but one day, yes. It is what he would want. And if this turns out to be that time, we have to respect that."

Owen crossed his arms over his chest and looked Ianto directly in the eye. "Could you do that, Ianto? Could you let him go if there was a chance to have more time?"

There was so much unsaid in the doctor's questions, but Ianto chose to ignore it. Now was not the time. Right then he felt almost ready to collapse, both physically and emotionally. So he simply closed his eyes against whatever he saw in Owen's face and nodded.

"I may not have a choice," he whispered, then turned and left the medical bay. He would sleep in Jack's bed that night, though he would sleep alone, to begin again in the morning. They would try to help Jack as best as they could, yet if they could not, Ianto would have to accept something he was not prepared to accept at all.

But he would, for Jack.

* * *

Though he'd gone to bed quite late, Ianto slept restlessly and finally rose early, giving up on any more attempts to fall back asleep when he knew he wouldn't. It didn't feel right, sleeping in Jack's bed when Jack was upstairs fighting for his life. Logically, Ianto knew he needed the rest to be in top form; emotionally, he couldn't stand lying in the dark alone. So he showered and dressed in clean clothes, leaving his tie loose and forgoing the jacket, made himself some coffee, and hurried to the medical bay to sit with Jack and doze if he needed to before Gwen and Tosh came in.

Owen was there, fiddling with some sort of medical gadget, and he merely raised his eyebrows as Ianto came down the stairs, a large stack of files under his arm. Ianto nodded and stood next to Jack, glancing up at the monitors in the hope that something had changed, that Jack was getting better.

It looked the same to him, and Jack looked just as pale and worn out as he had hours earlier, if not more so. A silent question to Owen was answered with a shake of the doctor's head.

"Sorry, there's been no change," he said. He stood and stretched; apparently it was a habit not easily given up even though Owen couldn't feel any tension in his muscles. "But since you're up and about so early, I'm going up to Tosh's station to poke around that bullet some more."

He left without a word, and Ianto was once again grateful to have his own time with Jack. He pulled up a chair, set his coffee on a nearby tray, and began going through the files, searching for any reference to the bullet or the gun that might help them.

He caught himself glancing at Jack far more often than at his files, however, and finally Ianto sighed, put them away, and let his head fall back. Deep down, he knew the answer wasn't in the archives. Parker Douglas had come from the future—a future Jack hadn't lived because he'd been traveling and then trapped in the past. The chances of something having come through the Rift that was even remotely similar to what Douglas had used to hurt Jack were infinitesimal.

The answer was not in the past, but in the future.

Ianto would have drifted off if it hadn't been for a movement beside him. He almost startled himself out of his chair, earning a weak chuckle from Jack.

"I thought I smelled coffee," Jack said, a half smile on his face as he glanced over to where Ianto was already pulling the chair closer to the bed.

"I was hoping it would keep me awake," Ianto grumbled. "Obviously I need something stronger."

"Or maybe you need some sleep," Jack pointed out.

"I had a bit," Ianto replied evasively. "How are you feeling?"

Jack shook his head and laughed a bit hollowly. "Funny enough, I still feel like shit. And it's been a long time since I went to sleep and didn't wake up feeling better."

"Now you know what a hangover is like for the rest of us," Ianto murmured, hoping to keep the mood light. And it must have worked, for Jack laughed again.

"Oh, I've had hangovers that were far worse than this, believe me." He coughed again. "Though I am not really enjoying this too-weak-to-even-move business. Have you found anything?"

Ianto blew out a breath and hung his head. "No, not yet," he said. "Tosh and Owen have been working on the bullet—Owen is looking at it again right now—and Gwen and I tried tracking down the gun through the archives, but we didn't have any luck."

"I'm not surprised," said Jack. He tried to maneuver himself into a sitting position, but Ianto reached out to hold him back. Jack rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, sometimes I hate being flat on my back, even if you are pushing me down. Can you at least get me some more pillows so I can be more comfortable?"

Ianto couldn't help but smile at Jack's impatience; he had no doubt the man would prove to be a miserable patient, given how long it had been since Jack had had to deal with any prolonged bed rest. He helped prop Jack up to a half-sitting position, and Jack closed his eyes with a smile.

"Much better. Easier to breathe. I'm not surprised you didn't find anything on the gun, not if it's from the future."

"I know," Ianto replied with a shrug. "But we had to try."

"Anything on the bullet?" Jack asked. "Anything at all?"

Ianto frowned, trying to remember what Tosh had said before she'd gone home. "Tosh picked up a bit of radiation, but that wouldn't affect you, would it? Just like you don't really get sick."

"I don't know. What kind of radiation was it?" asked Jack. Ianto wasn't sure and was just about to call Owen when the doctor appeared on the stairs and joined them.

"Tosh said it was chronon radiation," said Owen. "Which would make sense if Douglas time-traveled or came through the Rift. He would have picked it up then."

"Right," said Jack. "Did you pick up anything unusual from me, though? In terms of the chronon radiation?"

Owen looked skeptical. "You've always got a tad of it going on. Something to do with that immortality trick of yours, you said once."

"Did you check him, though?" asked Ianto. "Maybe it has something to do with Jack not healing."

"Bollocks," Owen muttered under his breath. He rummaged around in a drawer before running a hand-held scanner over Jack. He swore again as he redid it.

"Yep, there it is. Your chronon levels are lower than usual, Jack." Owen didn't glance at Jack but at Ianto as he continued. "Sorry I missed it."

"We don't know what it means," said Ianto. "Or if it has anything to do with this."

"I doubt it's a coincidence," said Jack.

"Well, I don't know nearly enough about it to say one way or another," said Owen. "But we do know someone who might." He glanced at Ianto, who sensed he should already be calling this person, only his brain was a bit sluggish at that moment, and he glanced at Jack for the answer.

Jack was grinning broadly in spite of his weak condition. "Martha Jones," he said, nodding in agreement. "Voice of a nightingale."

Ianto practically ran upstairs to make the call.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Another thank you to Tamaar for her quick and wonderful work! And to everyone who has read and reviewed this, as well. I'll try to get Martha's chapter up soon!


	5. Chapter Five

V. _Time, whose tooth gnaws away everything else, is powerless against truth. ~Thomas Huxley_

"Martha Jones speaking."

Ianto took a deep breath to steady his shaking hands. "Martha, hello. It's Ianto Jones from Torchwood Three."

"Ianto!" she exclaimed. "It's so good to hear from you." He could almost sense the yawn in her voice. "Although it is awfully early."

"UNIT letting you sleep in these days?" he teased, unable to resist in spite of the reason for his call. He had taken to Martha from the start, and liked to think they were friends in their own right, not only through Jack.

"As a matter of fact, no. I was about to get up. I'm surprised you're calling so early, though. What's wrong?"

Of course she would sense that something was wrong. Why else would he be calling before dawn? He hesitated before continuing, and she picked up on that immediately as well.

"Ianto? What's happened? Who's hurt?"

Her question, so perfectly on the mark, wrenched at Ianto's heart. "It's Jack," he managed to say, before clearing his throat to continue. He was tired and emotional, but he had to set that aside. Jack needed him, and he needed Martha.

"What about Jack?" asked Martha. "He hasn't run off again, has he? Because if he has, I will—"

"No, no, it's nothing like that." Ianto couldn't help but laugh at the protectiveness he heard in her voice. He certainly knew who to call if Jack did ever leave unexpectedly with the Doctor again. "He was shot last night, but there appears to be something that's stopped him from healing."

"He didn't die and revive?" asked Martha, knowing Jack's extremely complicated medical history quite well. She had not only traveled with him and the Doctor, after all, but had spent several weeks with them at the Hub after Owen had died and come back to his own peculiar half-life.

"No, he didn't die from the gunshot wound, but he's not pulling out of it, either." Ianto paused and closed his eyes, lowering his voice because he hated saying it out loud. "It doesn't look good."

There was silence on the other end of the line. "What makes you think he won't come back if he dies?"

"Martha, it's been twelve hours, and his body hasn't shown any sign at all of healing. Normally a gunshot wound, even a nonfatal one, would have closed up by now. Instead he's lying in bed and growing weaker by the hour."

"You still didn't answer my question, Ianto," she said, her voice both reproachful and professional. "Why do you think he won't come back?"

Ianto ran a hand through his hair as he started pacing. "Because the man who shot him was a pissed off Time Agent from the future who knew that Jack was immortal, yet he said he could kill Jack anyway. My gut tells me this man was telling the truth, and that it has something to do with his weapon."

Again there was silence on the phone. "Okay. That seems plausible, however improbable. What have you found out about the weapon?" She sounded calm and collected, and Ianto blessed her patience, because he would have come unglued if she were panicking.

"There was no trace of the gun in the archives," he replied, reigning in his disappointment that they hadn't found the solution there. "And the only thing Tosh could tell us about the bullet that Owen pulled out of Jack was that it was covered in chronon radiation."

"Which is not unusual for time travel," Martha pointed out. "I've still got lingering traces of it myself."

"And Jack always has a certain amount of it. Apparently it has something to do with how he revives, but his levels are much lower than usual, according to Owen."

"So what are you thinking?" asked Martha. Ianto could almost hear her thinking out loud over the phone as she pondered what he had told her and tried to make sense of it.

"We've got nothing, Martha." Ianto was trying not to snap at her, but his frustration was getting the better of him. He paused and collected himself before continuing. "He's always said that he'll come back, no matter what happens. He's suffered some pretty horrific deaths, so I don't know how a simple bullet would do this, could stop him from healing and probably reviving as well."

"Maybe it wasn't the bullet itself, but something in the bullet," suggested Martha. "Is Owen there? Can I talk to him?"

"Of course," said Ianto, feeling relieved because this was out of his area of expertise. He ran up to the railing at the medical bay and motioned to Owen, who flew up the stairs to take the phone before stalking off around the Hub, medical babble flying from his lips.

Ianto leaned on the railing and looked down at Jack, lying in bed with his eyes closed as the monitors beeped and whirred around him. Normally Ianto quite enjoyed watching Jack sleep, as it was a rare glimpse at a calm, quiet side of the man who normally bounded around the Hub with so much energy. Even after a rough night with the Rift, or recovering from a gruesome death, Jack looked peaceful in his sleep, as if he too were enjoying the respite from simply being Jack. Yet now he lay in the medical bay instead of his bed (or Ianto's), and there was no aura of peace around him, only sickness and death. And fear—so much fear.

Or perhaps Ianto was projecting that last. Jack had died enough times that he couldn't possibly be scared of dying any longer; Jack had once said that coming back was actually more painful. Ianto knew there were times when Jack longed for a mortal life and the ability to grow old and die as a normal human being, yet if this were to be Jack's final passing, maybe he was frightened; maybe he wasn't ready to die, or didn't want to go.

_Not now. Not yet. _Jack had said those words right before losing consciousness in the park. What did they really mean? Did he want to live, even when he had longed to be fixed and mortal for so long? Did he want to stay and continue the life he'd found with Torchwood, and maybe even with Ianto? How could Ianto even dare to hope such a thing? He knew Jack, knew how much Jack had suffered over the years. Jack was immortal, and yet he had placed a do not resuscitate order in his file on the miniscule chance that one day he might finally be allowed to die and pass on. How could Ianto want anything different for such a tortured man?

Again, he was probably projecting, because Ianto himself wasn't ready to die. Oh, he knew he would one day, and it would be sooner rather than later. Torchwood agents almost always died young. Yet he wasn't ready, not now, not yet. It wasn't Torchwood, it wasn't aliens, and it wasn't saving the world that kept him clinging to life, hoping for as much time as possible. Yes, he'd come to cherish the work and the others who surrounded him day and night at the Hub, but most importantly, it was Jack. He did not want to leave Jack. It was both selfish and not: he knew his death would one day hurt Jack and leave him alone once more, and Ianto didn't want to do that to the man. Yet more than that wanted to stay with Jack for as long as he could, though he would never admit why, and he knew the other man would never say anything either, which was why Ianto wasn't quite sure what Jack would truly want.

With a sigh, Ianto let his head fall to his chest and tried to still his racing thoughts. He lost track of time as he stood clasping shaking hands, trying not to give into futile tears. He was startled when Owen returned to stand next to him and glanced up at the doctor, desperately hoping for answers.

"What did Martha say?"

Owen rolled his eyes. "An unbelievable amount of technobabble I should have had Tosh around to translate. But we're thinking the bullet did something to Jack to stop his body's normal restorative properties."

"Right." Ianto raised his eyebrows. "That seems obvious, just a fancy way of saying it. The question is _what_ did it do, and _how _do we undo it?"

"Martha explained a bit more about Jack's healing ability," said Owen. "It has to do with time itself. He's got a bit of it inside him, apparently, keeping him alive forever. The time vortex, she called it. I can't wrap my mind around time being quite that tangible, but there it is. The time vortex within him somehow brings him back every time he dies. Time is forever, and so is Jack." He looked frustrated over his lack of understanding, and Ianto nodded in sympathy, because it didn't make any sense to him either.

"Go on."

"We're thinking either the bullet itself somehow stopped the bits of time within him from working the way they are supposed to, or released something that's doing the same. Possibly by destroying those bits of time, sort of like a virus attacking healthy cells."

Ianto glanced down at Jack and frowned. "It would explain why his radiation levels are lower, and why he can't heal himself, wouldn't it?"

"Exactly. If something is destroying the stuff inside him that keeps him alive and able to revive, then of course he won't be able to heal. Martha said to run a scan every so often to see if his chronon levels keep going down, which might give us a clue to what's doing this."

"Such as?" asked Ianto.

"Don't know," said Owen. He turned and leaned against the railing to face Ianto. "I haven't found evidence of any sort of alien viruses or nanotechnology, but it could be that my equipment simply can't detect that sort of thing. It's certainly way beyond our technology if that crazy arsehole picked it up in the future."

Ianto was silent as he tried to sort through the barrage of information in his head and what it meant for Jack.

"So even if we're not sure what's causing it, what can we do to stop it?" he asked. "To stop Jack from losing the energy that keeps him alive?"

Owen's frustration practically radiated off of him in waves. "I'll keep running scans and tests until I find something that explains it so Tosh can find a way to fix it. I suggested the cryofreeze as a last resort, but Martha didn't think it would work. We can freeze Jack's body, but not the time vortex within him. You can't stop time with a bit of cold air." He shrugged, at a loss. "She said she'd do some research at UNIT, but she's in Madrid at the moment and can't get away until at least the day after tomorrow."

Ianto glanced down at Jack to find he was awake and staring up at them with a small half-grin on his face.

"I told her she should've stayed with us. We're not nearly so hard about vacation days as UNIT."

Owen and Ianto snorted in unison, which made Jack start laughing. It was good to see him laugh, even if it was hardly the laugh they were used to and ended in a coughing fit. Jack struggled to his half-sitting position again and eyed them. "Do I have to crane my neck to talk to you, or will at least one of you come down here and tell me what she said?"

Owen went to talk to Jack while Ianto stayed where he was, still thinking. Something was destroying the time vortex within Jack that kept him alive forever. It seemed simple enough to try to identify what it was and stop it, and yet at the same time utterly impossible given that they were working with such limited technology. And if they did not fully understand how it was that Jack lived forever, how were they to find a way of fixing it? Would Jack want them to if it meant an eternity of dying and reviving?

As Ianto considered the answers, the cog door opened, and Gwen and Tosh came through together, talking quietly. Tosh was carrying a large bag of breakfast pastries, which she set down on the coffee table before enveloping Ianto with a wordless hug. Gwen nodded at him and went straight down to the medical bay to see Jack. Ianto watched her take Jack's hand and offer what he thought was a rather forced smile. He looked away and focused on Tosh.

"How is he?" asked Tosh, guiding him toward the sofa. He replied with a shrug.

"About the same—no better, perhaps a bit weaker. We talked to Martha Jones to see if she had any ideas." Tosh rummaged in the bag and pulled out his favorite muffin, practically pushing him to sit down.

"You haven't eaten, have you?" she asked. When he shook his head, she forced it into his hand. "Did you sleep at all?" He nodded this time; he hadn't slept much, but it was enough to get by and enough that he didn't feel guilty lying to her. "All right then, what did Martha say?"

"Well, last night you said something about the bullet giving off chronon radiation. It has to do with time. Jack always has a bit of it hanging around him, but Owen scanned him, and his levels are lower than usual."

"So again—what did Martha say?" said Tosh, taking out a muffin of her own as she sat next to Ianto. He shook his head at his lapse.

"Sorry, I was getting to it. She said something about how Jack has bits of time in him that keep him alive. The bullet probably interfered with that somehow, but we're not sure how."

"If we find out how, can we stop it?"

"I don't know," said Ianto. "It's likely quite advanced." He heard the resignation in his voice and hated it, but it didn't look good. They worked with a rift in space-time, but that didn't mean they knew the first thing about space or time, or how to fix a man who sometimes defied the laws of both.

"So am I," Tosh said, sounding more confident than she looked. "If we can figure out what's causing it, then I can come up with something to stop it."

"What if it's biological?" asked Ianto, and Tosh frowned.

"Well, then I'll need a bit more help from Owen, won't I?" she replied, obviously trying to stay positive. Ianto smiled at her and patted her leg.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Don't thank me yet." She reached for his hand and clasped it in her own with a gentle squeeze. "But I'll do everything I can, Ianto. I promise."

Owen joined them then. "Well, here's a starting point then: his radiation levels are still dropping."

Tosh looked between Owen and Ianto, who was staring at the doctor as he tried to understand what that might mean. Tosh asked for him.

"So what does that tell you?" she asked.

Owen looked longingly at her muffin before throwing himself down in a nearby chair and putting his elbows on his knees.

"Jack's immortality is a direct result of having tiny bits of this so-called time vortex literally woven into his cells. That's why he's always had a steady level of chronon radiation. Now those levels are falling."

"Which means?" pressed Ianto, knowing he sounded impatient but wanting Owen to get on with it.

"I'd say the fact that his levels are dropping confirms Martha's theory that the bullet itself contained something—biological, chemical, mechanical, I don't know—that is destroying the bits of time within him. And when it's gone, so is he."

"Why wouldn't he become mortal?" asked Ianto, his voice sharp as confusion and hope warred within him.

"I don't know!" Owen replied with great frustration evident in his bearing as he waved his hands in the air. "Martha might as well have been speaking another language at times, but I think what it boils down to is that Jack's entire being is tied to this thing now, and draining it is a bit like draining his blood."

"You mean, he really will die?" asked Tosh. Ianto couldn't speak. Somehow he had hoped Martha would have the answer, not even worse news. He had not wanted his deepest fears confirmed.

"Yes," said Owen softly. "And because there will be no more time vortex swirling through him, he won't come back from it either."

"Then we have to find whatever it is that is doing this and stop it," said Tosh. She jumped up and headed toward her station.

Owen sighed and followed. "Your guess is as good as mine, Tosh. I've never seen anything like it before. It's from the future."

"That's not going to stop us from finding the answers." Ianto heard her determination as he set his muffin down on the table. He stomach had begun to twist at Owen's words, and now he was no longer hungry. Jack was actually dying…and he wouldn't come back to them when he did unless they figured out a way to stop the terrible changes within him.

In the back of his mind, Ianto wondered if Jack wanted them to try, or if Jack's wish to be mortal again would come true in the most final way possible.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much to Tamaar for working her magic once again! Martha had originally planned on coming to Cardiff in the first drafts of this story, but was unable to get out of her UNIT obligations. However, several other characters will be making special appearances very soon. Hold on to your seats. The next chapter is a bit longer and may require a tissue, but I'd like to think I have some surprises in store after that. Thank you for all the reviews, they are so encouraging and keep us writers going!


	6. Chapter Six

VI. _The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. ~ Mark Twain_

The day was spent alternating between sitting with Jack, hovering around Tosh and Owen, and trying to avoid Gwen. Ianto hated thinking of the last in such a way, but that was the truth of it. Gwen was not taking Jack's situation well, and Ianto was not taking her well. Enough that when a Weevil needed sorting in Roath, Ianto went out with Tosh while Owen continued working on some sort of solution.

When they returned, Gwen was still sitting with Jack, even though he appeared to be asleep. Ianto sighed and went to clean up. Although his hand was throbbing after having to manhandle the Weevil, he did not want to go down there and disturb them. Or maybe he didn't want to see Jack. No, that wasn't true, he would stay by Jack's side every hour if it were possible. Yet this was Torchwood, so it wasn't really an option. And he was who he was, which was a man in confused denial. He let Gwen sit with Jack when he knew he should be there, but couldn't bring himself to it.

Gwen exhorted Tosh and Owen to find something, anything that could save Jack. At one point even Tosh snapped at her, which was another reason Ianto had taken her out on the Weevil call. Yet every time Gwen said something, Ianto felt a small part of himself question the effort.

Did Jack want them to do anything and everything they could, working themselves to the bone to save him? Should he just ask? Ianto wasn't sure of anything anymore, considering that one of his core beliefs—that Jack would never die—was unraveling around them. So he settled into a chair by the sofa, rested his elbows on his knees and let his head fall forward, stretching his neck while his hand continued to throb.

How long he stayed like that, breathing deeply through his uncertainty and discomfort, Ianto wasn't sure; he might have even dozed off. Then Gwen was squatting next to him, placing a gentle hand on his knee.

"Jack wants to see you," she said quietly. Ianto glanced at her without speaking. She looked tired, worried, and upset. He laid a hand on hers and squeezed it before rising.

"Do you want me to order some dinner?" she asked. "It's about that time."

"That would be great," Ianto replied, standing and rolling his shoulders. "Thank you." He turned to head downstairs and see Jack, but she stopped him.

"He's going to be all right, isn't he?" she asked with a sideways glance at the computer where Tosh and Owen were still working side by side. "I mean, he's not going to die…he'll come back, right? Like he always does?"

Ianto let his eyes close before opening them to meet her wide-eyed gaze. He was nothing but honest; why spare her now if he could not spare her later? "I don't know, Gwen. I really don't. It doesn't look good, does it?"

She bit her lip as she nodded once in silent acknowledgement of the truth. Ianto couldn't even offer her a smile before he turned away and went downstairs.

He sat with Jack, and later, they all ate with him, hoping to keep everyone's spirits up, though Jack fell asleep early on. They continued to eat in silence until it was too much to bear and they all fled. Ianto didn't even bother going down to Jack's bunk that night, and no one told him to go home, either. He kipped on the sofa for a few hours before he couldn't stand it any longer. After checking on Jack, he went to the archives, buried himself in weaponry research, and eventually dozed off, only to find Owen shaking him awake, telling him the girls were back with breakfast.

It was another day of searching for answers while trying to keep up with the everyday running of Torchwood. Martha checked in, but could offer no more than she already had. Owen continued to monitor Jack's condition, but Jack was growing weaker, and there seemed to be nothing the doctor could do to help except ease his discomfort. Tosh continued to work on the bullet while Gwen continued to sit with Jack.

Ianto fielded several of Jack's calls, did some of the paperwork collecting on Jack's desk, made sure everyone had coffee, and generally tried to carry on without letting his thoughts overwhelm him. He wasn't avoiding Jack, not exactly, but soon enough Gwen came and found him in the archives, still searching for answers, and offered to get dinner while Ianto went to see Jack.

"He's asking for you again," she said. "He thinks you're avoiding him." She paused. "Are you?"

Ianto shook his head and went down to the medical bay. He did not want to talk to Gwen about it; in fact, he'd rather talk to Jack, and Jack was the one he was apparently avoiding.

Jack was sitting up, though he looked barely able to do so. His face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and he looked smaller, as if whatever was happening to him was reducing his strength, mind and body. And he seemed sad, staring into the distance when Ianto approached, eyes crinkled with pain.

"Jack?" he asked. "Is everything okay? Do you need anything?"

Jack turned and smiled at him, and Ianto was amazed at the change in his persona: open and happy and relaxed, he beckoned Ianto closer with his index finger.

"I need you, stranger," he said with the cheekiest grin Ianto had seen since Jack had been shot. Ianto graced the other man with a slow roll of his eyes, knowing Jack would delight in it.

Jack laughed and reached out for his hand, pulling Ianto closer, though his grip was weaker than normal. "I'm serious. I missed you." He paused as he massaged gentle circles over the wrap on Ianto's hand. "Gwen means her best, but she's not taking this well."

"No, she's not. But that's Gwen. She cares about you. We all do."

"How are you?" Jack asked. "I heard you and Owen went out earlier?"

"Just a retrieval, and not even a scratch. I think he needed the break from Gwen hanging around down here so much. It was getting fairly tense, if you hadn't noticed."

Jack nodded with a lopsided grin on his face. "So you're doing all right?"

"I wasn't the one who was shot," Ianto pointed out.

"How's your hand?" Jack asked.

"Hurts like hell."

Jack dropped Ianto's hand and pointed away. "Take something for it. Now."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Anticipating me being here a while?" he asked as he moved toward the medicine cabinet.

"Yes, I am. I want to talk to you."

Ianto hesitated at the sound in Jack's voice: serious in a way that almost worried him, because Ianto could guess what Jack wanted to talk about. Yet talking about it would make it real, and Ianto wanted to keep working to try to figure this out before it was too late. He didn't want to waste time talking about it. That's not what they did; they didn't _talk_.

He punched in the code to the medicine locker and took out two painkillers. They were the same ones Owen had given him earlier, and though he was tempted to take a third, he knew the doctor would not approve. Besides, he needed his wits about him for whatever Jack wanted to talk about. Swallowing the pills dry, he went back to where Jack was watching him, his normally bright blue eyes tired but intense.

"Do you need anything?" Ianto asked as he pulled up the chair Gwen had used for so much of the day. Jack shook his head and held up his arm, indicating the IV running into his forearm. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Jack said he was fine, before he reached out and pulled Ianto's hand into his own once more.

"I asked you before, but you didn't answer, so I'll ask again. How are you?"

Ianto searched Jack's face and knew he wouldn't get away with lying, so he sighed and glanced away. "I'm doing the best I can. That's all I can do."

Jack seemed to think about Ianto's answer. "I'm sorry this happened," he said. "I know how hard it is to watch someone…well, you know. I hate putting you through this."

Ianto whipped his head around to stare incredulously at Jack's very serious face. "You're sorry? Jack, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry you were shot. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to stop it, or anything to help you. I'm sorry I'm just sitting here, wishing you were better and not knowing what I can do, what any of us can do to stop this—"

"Shh," Jack said softly, squeezing his hand. "Don't get worked up. It's not your fault in any way. You've done so much to keep things running around here, to figure this out. Thank you."

Ianto let his head fall but stifled a groan, because Jack shouldn't be thanking him, it wasn't enough. He wasn't doing anything that made him feel useful, not like Tosh or Owen or even Gwen. He was just fretting and letting his thoughts run away with him, not to mention his resentments and insecurities. There was one thing, however, he needed to know more than anything, in order to accept that what they were doing was right.

"Jack," he started, then hesitated. He took a deep breath and plunged on. "I told Owen about your DNR. I need to know…are we doing the right thing? Do you want us to find the answer?"

Jack's eyes widened in what appeared to be genuine surprise. He tugged on Ianto's hand and pulled him closer, so that Ianto propped a hip on the bed, half-sitting and half-standing. "Yes," Jack said forcefully. "I want you to find the answer. I may not want to be immortal, but I don't want to die. Not now, not yet. Not if I have a choice between fighting and giving up."

There it was again, that same phrase Jack had used in the park when he'd been shot. It was all Ianto could do to stop a sob from escaping in relief. Jack raised a hand to Ianto's cheek and caressed it with a tenderness that was rare outside of quiet moments shared alone and in private.

"I want to be with you, Ianto. I want to stay with them." He gestured up toward the Hub and the others. "I like this time, this life, and I want to enjoy it a bit longer before I have to give it up."

Ianto was shocked. Jack had come back from his travels with the Doctor to them, and he had struggled to believe Jack's words then. A part of him still suspected that Jack's heart remained in the stars and that he would leap at the chance to return. Or, given his already long life, Jack would gladly embrace mortality when it meant the end of his endless suffering.

Only now, Jack was professing neither: he wanted to stay on Earth, with Ianto, with Torchwood. But at what cost?

"Okay then," Ianto began again. "What are you willing to sacrifice? What if we find what's doing this to you and stop it, but in order to survive, you remain immortal? Or like Owen?"

Jack sighed and turned away. He was quiet for so long that Ianto was fairly sure he had the answer, but Jack surprised him.

"The Doctor asked me, when we ended up at the end of the universe, if I wanted to die. And I told him I didn't know." He turned bright blue eyes back to Ianto. "And I'll tell you the same thing: I don't know. I don't want to die now, and I will fight it to the end with you, but if I do…I don't know if I can keep coming back over and over, knowing I had a shot at being normal."

Though it broke Ianto's heart to hear, he understood. How could it be otherwise? He wasn't sure he could endure living forever just to be with Jack a tiny bit longer, were the situation reversed.

He nodded and forced himself to meet Jack's gaze, seeing the anguish and regret there, certain it was his fault, yet also knowing there was nothing he could do but honor Jack's wishes. It was an awful feeling, one Ianto wished more than anything would simply go away, the decision taken out of his hands. Because somehow, he knew the decision would fall to him. He would be looked to if (when) it came time to enforce the DNR or make some other life-altering choice. He would be the one asked to speak to Jack, or choose for him, because even if the others didn't know much about their relationship, they knew there was something going on. It would be Ianto's responsibility, and he didn't know how he would ever be able to make the decision on his own.

Jack's words gave him some direction, some measure of understanding, but Ianto's own heart rebelled because deep down, he wanted Jack to live. And with that thought, he gasped and stepped back, away from Jack. To say that he'd had a painful realization was putting it lightly; it was like being stabbed in the heart as the epiphany shattered across his consciousness.

This was Lisa all over again.

Jack was watching him curiously, opening his mouth to speak, but Ianto held up his hand, motioning him to wait while he collected himself. He turned around, putting his head down so he didn't hyperventilate as his mind raced through the implications. It was not fair, not this, not again! He had done everything he could to save Lisa, sacrificing everything including her own release from pain and sorrow, even when the pain had been so bad she had begged for it to end. He had refused to let her die, endangering the entire world, because he had loved her and couldn't lose her. And now Jack was dying, the one man in the world who couldn't die, and Ianto knew he would be faced with the same horrible choice. He didn't want to lose Jack, but could he let him go and release him from the pain and heartbreak of immortality when he had not been able to do the same for Lisa? Ianto had tormented Lisa by keeping her alive for so long; how could he do the same to Jack, just to keep him a little bit longer?

The answer was simple: he couldn't. He could not make the same mistake twice. He would let Jack go when it was time.

One breath, then two, and three. Slowly Ianto turned around and returned to Jack, settling his shoulders back and taking Jack's hand, grasping it tightly. He never wanted to let go, but he knew now that he would, if he had to.

"I won't let you suffer, Jack," said Ianto, running his bandaged hand over Jack's face. "I won't let you bear the weight of forever on your shoulders if you have the chance to move on from it. To have that normal the rest of us have." As if death was a normality mortals craved. For Jack, it was.

Jack's eyes welled up, and he pulled Ianto down against his forehead. "But I don't want to leave you," he whispered. "I really don't."

"I know," said Ianto with a crooked smile as he held back tears. "And until you do, we'll keep fighting, like you said. But there will be no resurrection gloves, no rifts, no resets. I won't sacrifice your death for an unhappy life."

"I'm not unhappy," Jack said, his breath hitching in a half laugh, half sob. "I just want to be…" He trailed off, and Ianto kissed him silent, hoping it would not be the last time.

"I know," he said. "I know, Jack. We'll get through this."

Jack cleared his throat and pulled away from the thick, heavy emotions swirling around them, feelings they did not normally acknowledge, at least not with words. "Thank you," he said, closing his eyes. "For understanding. Now, there a few other things I wanted to talk about as well."

"All right," said Ianto, sitting back down on the side of the bed with Jack's hand still in his own. "I'm listening."

"I have a will," Jack began, and Ianto nodded to stop him; he already knew of it and would take care of it without discussing it.

"I'm aware of it, as well as your solicitor. It won't be a problem."

"Right. I should've known." Jack laughed, but it ended up as a cough. "Okay, then can I ask you an even bigger favor?"

"Of course." Ianto didn't hesitate, although he was worried. What else would Jack ask of him? Could he possibly do it when the time came, when so many burdens were already weighing him down?

"Look after them," Jack said after a moment's pause. "I know you do already, but especially Tosh and, god, Gwen. She's going to take it the worst."

Ianto looked away at Jack's words, because yes, Gwen would take it hard, but Ianto could feel his own heart breaking into pieces already. Jack pulled him back.

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I know you will…I know it will be hard…but Gwen's different. She's not going to accept it. Don't let her lose herself. Please."

Ianto nodded; it was a lot to ask, but he would do it, for Jack. He couldn't meet Jack's eyes, however, because who would save him then? Who would keep Ianto from falling to pieces? Owen? The thought made him shake his head with a snort, breaking the tension, and he glanced back at Jack and smiled. Jack appeared relieved.

"Ianto, I don't know what comes after this life," he said, holding Ianto's eyes so intently that there was no way Ianto could look away even if he wanted to. "All I've ever seen is darkness. All Owen and Suzie saw was darkness. But I've always wanted to believe that there was more, even if those of us who come back simply don't remember it."

Ianto nodded, encouraging Jack to continue even though he had no idea where the man was going with the conversation now; he suspected it would not be comfortable.

"I want you to know, Ianto…that if there is anything out there, anything for us after this life…then I will be waiting for you there. I promise."

Ianto felt like he'd been kicked in the chest, his heart almost stuttering to a stop as his breath caught in his throat, but he covered it as best as he could. He leaned forward and kissed Jack's forehead, forcing himself to smile. "If there_ is_ anything after, there will be so many people waiting for _you_, Jack, that you won't need to wait for me."

"But I will," Jack said, the unspoken words clear in his eyes. "I swear I will, Ianto. I will wait, and I will search, and I will find you again, whenever and wherever it may be."

Hands shaking, Ianto stood on wobbly legs and kissed Jack before leaving. He needed to get away before he broke down completely. "Get some rest, Jack. I'm going to go see what Tosh and Owen have found. Want me to send Gwen down?" He asked this last with a teasing tone, knowing the likely answer. Jack pulled a face.

"No, I'm going to sleep a bit. You do what you have to do."

"I'll check on you soon. We're going to get something to eat as well."

Jack's face lit up. "Could you maybe eat down here again? All of you? I'll even try to stay awake this time."

Ianto nodded, knowing that Jack was probably going stir crazy lying in bed all day and could use the company of more than one morose person at a time. "All right. But get some rest first. I'll be back soon."

He let a lingering finger trail over Jack's lips before pressing one last kiss to his lips, then hurried upstairs. Gwen had not returned with dinner, so Ianto hurried past Tosh and Owen and into one of the corridors that branched off the main Hub. He ignored the call of his name and walked blindly, his eyes squeezed shut against the burn he could feel developing behind his eyelids. His breath began to quicken as well, but it wasn't until he was far enough away, in a small dark room by himself, when he finally let himself sink to the floor, head falling to his knees.

And for the first time in forty-eight hours, Ianto wept for all that had happened, and all that he might inevitably lose.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Another thank-you to Tamaar, my lovely beta! Let's take a break from the doom and gloom, shall we? Next chapter will set things in motion. Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought.


	7. Chapter Seven

VII. _We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. ~William Shakespeare_

Gwen soon returned with sandwiches for everyone, and they ate down in the medical bay together as Jack had requested. Owen grumbled about it being unsanitary, just as he had the night before, but everyone knew that was only because he couldn't eat anything. Jack seemed glad for the company, and everyone's spirits rose, even Ianto's. He'd had his moment of weakness and was determined that it would not happen again. After washing his face and composing himself, he joined the others, taking a place next to Jack's bed, while Tosh and Gwen brought down chairs and sat on the other side. Owen stood and watched, tossing in his two cents whenever needed.

Everyone avoided talking about Jack, his injury, or the mystery surrounding Parker Douglas and the bullet. Instead, Gwen had them all sharing the stupidest thing they had done that didn't put the planet at risk (by then Gwen had wised up with her games and knew she was guilty of having endangered the planet any number of times all on her own.) Jack's tale made them laugh uproariously, and he seemed to revel in the attention, though Ianto noticed that Jack was also the first to stop laughing, his smile forced and his eyes sad again. Ianto reached over and squeezed Jack's hand in understanding, holding it tight, knowing that Jack was doing this for them as much as for himself. Normally Ianto would never demonstrate his feelings in front of the others, but it was a testament to his heightened anxiety that he didn't care what the rest of the team saw at that moment.

It was while they were laughing about Owen's near miss at global annihilation that they heard the cough from above them. As they were all with Jack, it had to be an intruder, but since they were in the medical bay of their secret underground base eating take-away, none of them were armed. Five pairs of eyes glanced up in alarm, only to relax when the familiar woman standing at the railing leaned forward and laughed at them.

"You look like you've all seen a ghost," she exclaimed with a wide smile on her face. She was wearing black trousers tucked into tall boots, a loose blouse under a snug vest. Her black hair fell in several braids around her shoulders, and bright blue eyes were sparkling with amusement. "I'm sorry to sneak up on you and your little party, but I did knock upstairs, and no one answered. Now I know why."

Owen crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off from the woman above them. Tosh and Gwen exchanged concerned glances before looking to Jack and Ianto for answers. Jack was grinning broadly, though, and Ianto couldn't help but join him. Tahlia Blake was not a threat, she was a friend. Ianto nodded at the girls before moving up the stairs to welcome their unexpected visitor.

"Ianto Jones," she said as he came around the railing and held out his hand. She swatted it away and pulled him into a tight embrace, sneaking in a kiss behind his ear that had him blushing immediately and Jack protesting loudly from below. Tahlia laughed and glanced down at Jack.

"Don't worry, I have one for you too even if I do still like him better," she said. She linked her arm through Ianto's elbow, and they joined the others downstairs. Tahlia quirked an eyebrow at Owen, who simply nodded in greeting, and exchanged quick hugs with Gwen and Tosh before moving to Jack and kissing his ear as well.

"Always getting into trouble somehow, aren't you Jack?" she asked, brushing the hair from his face much as Ianto had done several times already. He watched them fondly, if with a bit of confusion as to the reasons for her sudden appearance.

Tahlia Blake was a Time Agent. She was the only decent one he had met besides Jack, which sometimes made him wonder how Jack had ever been a Time Agent himself. Then again, Jack had been a different man before he had met the Doctor, and men like John Hart and Parker Douglas might not be representative of the entire Agency.

Like Jack, Tahlia had left the Agency and set out for herself, although she had tried to do it a bit more honestly, becoming a bounty hunter rather than running intergalactic cons. They had met her several months earlier when she had come to Cardiff looking for an alien device that had been quite hot on the intergalactic black market: a permanent weaponized version of a device originally meant for more recreational body swaps. Jack and Ianto had somehow activated it before she had arrived, swapping bodies and unable to return to their own. It had ultimately worked out, although Ianto had not only died while in Jack's body, but he'd also had the opportunity to use Tahlia's wrist strap for a bit of time travel in order to sort out a few things before the whole sordid mess had ended in a hail of gunfire and intergalactic alien cops. Tahlia had turned over the weapon to the Shadow Proclamation, promising to return and visit some day.

Now Ianto wondered what had brought her back to Earth, to this particular time. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence that she had appeared right after Jack's shooting by another Time Agent, could it? He was about to ask when Jack beat him to it.

"So what brings you back to our doorstep? If I'd known you were coming I'd have cleaned up a bit, maybe even shaved."

Ianto bit back a snort. Jack was wearing an open medical robe, his arm hooked up to the IV still replenishing his fluids after the massive blood loss he'd suffered. His face was pale and grey, he was sporting the beginnings of a scratchy beard, and even his eyes were duller than normal. Tahlia looked at him with such sadness that Ianto was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"This," she said, laying a hand on his chest next to the large bandage that covered the bullet hole that hadn't yet healed. "I came to warn you, but obviously I was too late."

"Warn him?" asked Ianto, his voice sharp as he stepped closer to catch her eye. He felt the others tense around him. "What do you mean?"

She sighed and turned toward him. "I ran into John."

"John Hart?" Ianto asked, unable to keep the note of shock and disgust out of his voice. He cursed silently to himself while Owen snorted and Gwen groaned. Tahlia glanced around at them with a rueful grin.

"Seems like the response he gets from most people. Yes, you know him as John Hart. He said that he'd met you, and that you had parted on bad terms."

"You could say that," said Owen, stepping forward and speaking with Tahlia. When she had last been there, she had shot down his advances relatively quickly. Being dead had shaken even more of his confidence, but it appeared John Hart still brought out Owen's anger eight months later. "He shot me, hit Tosh, and poisoned Gwen."

"That sounds like him," she murmured, then glanced at Jack and Ianto. "Let me guess, he probably propositioned you two?"

"He killed me," said Jack, his voice hard. Ianto glanced at him, knowing that John Hart was still a sore point with Jack, even after everything they'd been through. The man had callously pushed Jack off a building all for the want of a diamond, and at that point, Hart had not known that Jack was immortal.

"And you?" she asked Ianto. Ianto could only roll his eyes.

"I got a nickname," he replied dryly. "I suppose I was lucky."

"Eye Candy?" asked Tahlia, a sparkle in her eye. Ianto groaned, but Jack chuckled; he knew how much Ianto hated that nickname.

"What?" she asked. "It's true, you are." She winked, prompting Jack to sit up a bit straighter.

"Hey, stop it. I thought we went over this last time," he said.

"Can't blame a girl for still trying," she replied, but she was smiling, and Ianto knew she was kidding, and Jack knew it as well. It was strange but nice to turn the tables on Jack once in a while when it came to running into beautiful women who fancied him.

"What did Hart say?" asked Ianto, trying to get things back on track.

Tahlia nodded. "Right, sorry. He told me he'd met Parker Douglas at a bar—the Blue Moon." Jack nodded, a fond look on his face, and Ianto wondered why that was important.

"The Blue Moon?" he asked, prompting one of them for more information.

"It is—or will be, I suppose—a popular hangout for Time Agents in the future," said Jack, smiling almost wistfully. "We went there all the time. 46th century pub located in the Artemisian system. Really does have an amazing blue moon, too."

"I was stopping by to catch up on things when John literally staggered out of one of the side rooms. And not drunk for a change, which was what caught my attention." She paused, and her voice turned serious. "Apparently Parker Douglas got hold of a manipulator when he was released from prison, and when he learned you had left the Time Agency not long after he went to Volag-Noc, he went back in time to track you down. He started at the Blue Moon, figuring he'd eventually run into either you or John."

"And sure enough, John showed up." Jack sighed.

"I think it started out friendly at first," said Tahlia. "They talked, caught up a bit. John said Parker looked so much older, almost broken, but sounded sincere. He asked a lot of questions about you."

"I've only seen John once in over one hundred fifty years by my timeline," Jack said. "It's not like he could tell him much."

"He told Parker Douglas that you couldn't die."

Tosh gasped while Owen swore under his breath. Ianto inhaled sharply and glanced down to see Jack's reaction; he still appeared slightly confused. Shaking his head, he coughed before responding.

"But John doesn't know why I can't die," said Jack.

"Do you?" asked Tahlia, and Jack nodded.

"Yes, I have a pretty good idea. Especially since it's not working at the moment."

Her eyes widened slightly. "That's what I came back to warn you about. John said to tell you Parker was out of prison, knew you couldn't die, and had a good idea of where to find you and your team."

"How'd he know when to find Jack?" demanded Owen. "Hart give that up too?"

Tahlia nodded, but appeared reluctant to implicate Jack's former partner. "He did. He said he was drunk and high and pissed off at Jack. He didn't even realize he was being played until Douglas slipped him a sedative and left him unconscious at the table."

"Why didn't he come himself?" asked Ianto.

Tahlia was quiet for a moment before answering. "He said he wouldn't be welcomed. He wasn't sure if you would even believe him. And he was planning to go after Douglas."

"What?" asked Jack, his voice cracking in surprise. He started coughing again, which prompted Owen to hurry over and take some readings.

"You're overexerting yourself," he said. "Lie down and stay calm."

Jack did look more tired, and without protest he let Ianto help him back to a more supine position. Tahlia stepped away, looking both worried and scared. Ianto wanted to talk to her privately, but he knew Jack wouldn't want it, would want to learn as much from Tahlia as he could. They'd have to puzzle it out together before letting Jack get some rest.

"So Hart knew that Douglas was planning on coming after Jack? And he actually asked you to warn us while he tried to stop him?" asked Ianto. Tahlia nodded from where she stood next to Gwen and Tosh.

"Yes," she said. "But obviously I was too late. I had no idea when exactly Douglas would find you, except that it was after John's visit, and apparently John didn't stop him either." She hung her head. "I'm sorry, Jack," she murmured.

"It's not your fault," he replied, trying to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. Owen adjusted some pain medications, and Jack slowly began to relax, closing his eyes. Ianto thought maybe Jack had gone to sleep and glanced up at Tahlia.

"Do you know how Douglas did this?" he asked. "Hart told him Jack couldn't die, but how did Douglas figure out how to circumvent that?"

"I don't know," she said. "John couldn't have told him, because he doesn't know. He felt awful, Ianto. He told Douglas about Torchwood and Jack's immortality, but he didn't mean for Parker to use the information against Jack."

"No excuse," Ianto growled, and Jack touched his arm lightly.

"He probably does feel bad about it," said Jack. "It's not the first time John's slipped up after a high."

"So John Hart sold you out," said Owen. "Brilliant. That still doesn't tell us anything about what Douglas did to you."

"Douglas must have got the information from someone else," Gwen offered, but Owen shook his head.

"Who? Who in the future would know how Jack works? We don't even know, and he's lying right here in my medical bay."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Owen," said Jack, letting his eyes drift shut.

"Yeah, don't remind me," Owen grumbled. "But we need to know what's doing this in order to stop it."

"It's possible he figured it out himself once John said something," said Tahlia, glancing at Jack for confirmation. When it became obvious that Jack wasn't listening, she continued, addressing the others. "He was brilliant. He did more to advance the technology of our manipulators in a few years than others had done in decades. He was a scientist as well as a field agent, so he could have found a way on his own, if he had access to what he needed."

"Or he used his wrist strap to find someone who did know," said Tosh. "Like he used it to find John Hart." Tahlia's eyes widened slightly at the suggestion, and she nodded in agreement.

"We need to find Parker Douglas," said Ianto, looking not at Tosh or Tahlia but down at Jack, whose eyes flew open at Ianto's words. Jack seemed to understand immediately, and a flash of fear moved across his face as he reached for Ianto's fingers, grasping them weakly.

"No," he said. "You can't. It's too dangerous."

"It might be the only way, Jack," Ianto said. "I've done it before."

"Done what?" asked Gwen, moving closer as she tried to understand what Ianto was suggesting.

"That was, what? An hour jump? You're talking thousands of years in the future! I can't let you do that!" Jack started coughing again, and Ianto felt terrible for getting Jack upset, but for the first time since Jack had been shot, he felt hope. With Tahlia there, perhaps they could find answers. They had more time now: Tahlia had a working vortex manipulator.

"Wait," said Tosh. "Are you talking about finding Parker Douglas in the future?" Gwen gasped and started to protest, but Owen laid a hand on her arm to stop her as Ianto looked them all in the eye.

"Do you have any other ideas?" he asked, stepping away from Jack and crossing his arms over his chest as he faced them. "Any other way we can figure out what did this to him? With our own limited technology?"

They were silent until Tahlia cleared her throat.

"I assume you want to use my manipulator to do this?" she asked, her voice stiff. Ianto turned to her in embarrassed surprise and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't even ask."

She was smiling when he opened his eyes. "That's all right, I was thinking the same thing myself. We'll go back to the Blue Moon and talk to John, see if he found out anything about what Parker was planning, where he was going."

"Hold on," said Gwen, stepping closer once more. "If you've got a working wrist strap, can't you go back in time and stop Jack from being shot in the first place?"

Jack closed his eyes with a sigh. Ianto was silent, staring at his feet. What he wouldn't give to do that! Yet he knew it was wrong; it was against the rules of time travel to change the past because of how it might affect the future. He glanced up at Tahlia and silently pleaded with her to answer Gwen's question. Tahlia nodded and turned to Gwen.

"We can't go back and change something that's already happened. It's what got Parker sent to prison in the first place," she said. "You never know what the effect of changing time like that might be. Sometimes it corrects itself with very little mess, but most of the time the consequences are worse than what you were trying to change in the first place."

"I don't understand," said Gwen. Now Tosh looked away, clearly understanding the consequences. It seemed so simple, so easy…and yet it was also so very wrong and complicated. Ianto sighed as he answered Gwen this time.

"All we can do is try to find Douglas, find out if he knows how to reverse this, or if he has a cure."

"Why would he have a cure?" asked Owen, voice dripping skepticism. "If he's got a special weapon that's hand made to kill someone like Jack, he's not bloody likely to have a cure ready to go."

Tahlia answered when Ianto did not. "It's our only chance of saving Jack. Something is doing this to him. If Parker can tell us what, maybe we can find a cure somewhere else—or somewhen else."

Ianto met Tahlia's gaze, knowing it was all they could do now, no matter the dangers involved. They both turned to gaze down at Jack, who studied them carefully before closing his eyes and nodding, obviously reluctant to agree with what Ianto knew was a completely mad plan.

"Fine. See what else you can find out from John about Parker Douglas."

The others started protesting immediately, but Jack stopped them with a shout that turned into a prolonged cough. When he stopped, he wiped his mouth, and blood came away on his hand.

"Owen?" he asked, voice rising with uncharacteristic fear. Owen bolted over to the bed and began checking him over. Everyone backed away, but Jack reached out for Ianto's hand.

"I need to talk to you about this first," he whispered, another coughing fit interrupting anything else he wanted to say.

"Shut up before you bring up a lung," snapped Owen, listening to Jack's chest. "Yeah, either you've got a chest infection or you reinjured your lung coughing. Probably both, and since your body can't fight it off with magic, we need to keep on it and make sure it doesn't get worse. I'm adding more antibiotics to your drip. How's the pain?"

"My chest hurts," said Jack. "And it's hard to breathe."

"I'll give you something that should help that too, but we may have to put you on oxygen soon if your breathing doesn't get better. Everyone else upstairs."

Without protest they started to leave, but Jack called Ianto back. Owen adjusted some of the tubes and monitors set up around Jack, then gripped Ianto on the shoulder before leaving as well.

Jack motioned Ianto closer.

"Three things," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "One, be careful. Don't get yourself hurt or killed in the future. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Ianto murmured, and Jack smiled sadly at the fond formality.

"Second, be prepared. Traveling thousands of years in time is different than a few hours. It'll take you a while to recover because you'll probably get time sick. And once you get to the Blue Moon, prepare yourself again. It'll be the 46th century, and you are about to see more aliens that you've ever seen before."

"Worse than the local pub on a Saturday night, then?" Ianto asked lightly, and Jack nodded, still serious.

"Arm yourself. Several times over. And no matter what you see or hear, keep your straight face on or you're dead."

Ianto nodded, far more nervous about what he was going to do than he had been moments earlier. It was both exciting and terrifying to think he would be traveling into the future, Jack's future; if it weren't for such dire reasons and Jack's clear concern, he might have enjoyed it much more. "And third?"

Jack glanced away; when he turned back, there were tears in his eyes. "I'll keep fighting until the end, but remember my DNR. Remember what we talked about, if it comes to that." He took Ianto's hand and pulled it to his lips. "I trust you to do the right thing."

Ianto huffed out a sound that was half a laugh and half a sob. "That's a lot of responsibility," he whispered, hanging his head.

"You can do it," Jack replied. "You've done it before, and you'll do it again. I believe in you."

Jack's words struck Ianto right in the heart, and he nodded wordlessly. He didn't know what to say, but was saved from speaking at all when Jack pulled himself upward by the scruff of Ianto's neck and kissed him hard, pouring a good deal of passion and perhaps even love into it. Ianto returned the kiss, trying to be gentle, hoping this wasn't the last time he'd kiss Jack, but so, so scared that it might be. Jack must have felt it too, because when the kiss ended, neither of them spoke, they simply locked eyes and breathed deeply together for a long time.

"Go," said Jack, lying back down and obviously exhausted. "Good luck."

Ianto ran a hand over Jack's cold and clammy face, frowning at the abrupt turn for the worse Jack had taken in the last hour. He had to find what was doing this, find a way to save him. Kissing Jack's forehead, Ianto leaned down and whispered in his ear.

"I will come back to you," he said. "And I will do everything I can to stop this." He was once again reminded of the strange parallel the situation shared with Lisa's time in the basement, how hard he had worked to keep her alive and find a cure for her. Shaking his head at the comparison, Ianto turned to leave, but Jack stopped him.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said, blue eyes flashing wide to pierce Ianto with the naked truth: Jack wanted to live, but there was a price he was not willing to pay. Ianto would have to respect that.

"I won't," Ianto replied. He offered Jack a far more confident smile than he felt before heading up to the Hub and his trip to the future, hoping he would never have to make such a heartbreaking decision.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much to Tamaar for the always spot-on corrections and suggestions! It's so much better thank to her eye, and you have no idea how many emails she gets from me about various plots and ideas. Thank you, I couldn't do it without you and it's been so much fun!

Tahlia Blake is from a previous story of mine, _Walk a Mile_. You don't really have to read that story to know her, as I summed it up with her arrival. But if you are interested in just what happened to Jack and Ianto with the body swap, and how she figures into that story, do give it a try.

Thank you for reading! I hope this chapter didn't come as too much of a shock. I always knew there was going to be some wibbly-wobbly timey-whimey in this story. Buckle up!


	8. Chapter Eight

VIII. _The only thing we know about the future is that it will be different. ~Peter Drucker_

"You can't do this, Ianto," said Gwen as soon as he walked into the conference room where the others had gathered after leaving him to speak with Jack.

Ianto raised a single eyebrow. "It's our best chance to find Parker Douglas and a cure for Jack. Our_ only_ chance."

"It's dangerous," she said. The others were unusually silent, as if they were afraid to interrupt what Ianto sensed would be an unavoidable confrontation between him and Gwen. He knew what was coming and resigned himself to it.

"Everything we do is dangerous," he pointed out.

"Jack needs you," said Gwen, which surprised him, especially coming from her. While the team certainly knew about him and Jack, they only talked about it to tease one or the both of them. Ianto was fairly sure none of them considered him and Jack serious, anything more than quick shags around the Hub. Owen had said as much before Martha had left. And Jack's dislike of labeling things had apparently rubbed off on Ianto; he wasn't sure whether to think of it as serious either most times. Or maybe he just wouldn't let himself think of it that way, knowing the inevitable conclusion.

"Jack needs me to help him, not hold his hand," Ianto replied. His voice remained surprisingly calm and even.

"He needs you here, not running down criminals in the future," said Gwen. "Let me go instead."

Ianto felt his face harden. It was not her place to take this from him. He was general support for Torchwood, but more importantly, he was general support for _Jack_. He was the one who was there for Jack, who trusted him and had faith in him. Gwen challenged Jack, doubted him, sometimes forced him to question himself when he was already broken down by the things he had to do and the decisions he had to make. It was Ianto's job to support Jack, which meant it was now his job to save Jack, as well.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I was there. I met Douglas."

"Which could put you at risk!" she exclaimed. "He shot you, Ianto. He might try again."

"There's nothing stopping him from shooting you," said Ianto.

"We need you here," Gwen insisted.

"Actually, you don't. I'm disposable," Ianto replied. Owen's head snapped up with a frown, and Tosh protested immediately.

"You are _not _disposable, Ianto!"

"In the grand scheme of things and at the end of the day, yes, I am. Owen needs to stay with Jack to monitor his condition. You need to work on the bullet and find out how to fix this." Ianto turned to Gwen. "With Jack unable to perform his duties and the other two busy, you'll need to take over. You did it once, and you'll have to do it again."

Gwen was silent, as if she had no answer this time.

"_You_ kept us going then, Ianto," said Tosh softly. "We can't lose you." A barely there nod from Owen agreed, and Gwen glanced at them with a frown. Ianto sighed; he had not wanted it to come to this. He knew he was right, but wasn't sure how to convince them that he was the best one to do this.

"If something happens to me, I am replaceable. I am not a doctor, I am not a genius, and I am not a leader." He paused and glanced around at them all, each of them looking away until Owen finally shook his head.

"It's still not true." Owen stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. "You're not replaceable, not to us, and especially not to Jack."

"Think about Jack," Gwen agreed. "He needs you."

"Jack would understand—he _does_ understand," said Ianto. He was once again surprised by their tactics; what did they really think, really see between him and Jack? Maybe they saw more than Ianto thought. "I talked to him. He knows the risks."

"You're being selfish," Gwen said, her words cutting.

"I'm being practical," Ianto replied. His voice was clipped and curt now; the accusation stung, that he would do this for himself.

"You're being closed-minded," snapped Gwen. "I can do this too, Ianto. I want to help."

Ianto bit back his own biting reply and instead played to Gwen's sense of compassion and her obvious feelings for Jack. "I know you do. Stay here with him, hold his hand, talk to him. Keep things running so Tosh and Owen can figure this out."

Gwen looked away. "You're not the only one who cares, you know."

Tosh sucked in a breath; Owen swore under his. Ianto felt his temper start to rise and tried to check it, knowing it would not help Jack to fight with Gwen.

"I am well aware of that," he said quietly.

"Then let me help him. Let me go instead."

"Gwen, I've done this before," he said, impatient but still trying to remain calm. "It should be me. It has to be me."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because I have the most to lose," said Ianto, unable to stop the words from tumbling out, short and terse and filled with pain and anger. Gwen's eyes flashed.

"We all have a lot to lose," she threw back.

"You have Rhys," Ianto snapped, stepping closer, going in for the kill he could no longer avoid. He was tired of arguing with her, but he would not back down, even if he hurt her. "And Jack wouldn't want you to risk your life with Rhys for him. He wouldn't want you to die for him. You_ know_ that, Gwen."

She was silent, as if she'd been slapped by the words Ianto threw at her. "Bastard," she whispered, wiping at the tears that threatened to spill from her wide eyes. The others were watching them with apprehensive faces, as if trying to understand what had just happened.

"Silly bitch," he said, the anger gone almost as quick as it had flared. He tried to smile as he pulled her into a hug, and she let him rub her back as he pressed a kiss to her hair. It was what Jack would have done, with his endless capacity for forgiveness.

"I don't want to lose you either, Ianto," said Gwen, stepping back and laying a hand against his chest. He sensed her honesty and was surprised by the depth of her feelings for him. "Jack would never forgive us if we let you go and lost you somewhere in the future."

Ianto offered her a roll of this eyes tempered with a small smile. "Ah, the truth comes out. The wrath of Jack should he start the day without his morning coffee fix."

"That's not what I meant," said Gwen. Ianto inclined his head in understanding, then turned back to the others, his arm around Gwen's shoulders as he addressed Tahlia. She had stood silently in the background through the confrontation with Gwen, but now looked up and focused on Ianto.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Is this even going to work?" She shrugged, tucking her hands into her pockets as she rocked on the heels of her boots.

"Depends on what you want to accomplish," she replied. "What are _you_ thinking?"

"I want to talk to John Hart first," said Ianto. "Then we track down Douglas and get him to talk. Hopefully we'll have some idea of what he's done to Jack so Tosh can counteract it, if not a cure itself."

"Sounds like a nice and vague sort of plan." Tahlia nodded in approval. "I told John I'd meet him back at the Blue Moon in two hours, so it shouldn't be hard to find him."

Gwen frowned. "What if it had taken you longer than two hours to find us and warn Jack?" she asked. Ianto ducked his head so no one would see his smile. Tahlia wagged her eyebrows as Owen groaned.

"This is why you're staying in our time, Cooper," he said. "Time travel. She could probably go back five minutes after she left if she wanted to."

"Right," said Gwen. Ianto glanced down to see her blushing and couldn't help but offer a look of sympathy. She nodded gratefully at him before turning to Tahlia. "All right then, I may not get the whole temporal thing, but what are people wearing in the 51st century?" she asked. Now it was Ianto's turn to frown.

"What does my clothing matter?" he asked. "I need information. I'm not going deep undercover for any length of time."

"You'll stick out like…well, like a guy from the 21st century in that suit, sharp as it is," Tahlia replied, motioning at Ianto's three-piece pinstripe. "They don't make them like they used to."

"Well, we don't have any spare clothing from the future lying around," Ianto replied dryly. "And I'm pretty sure Jack abandoned his quite a while ago as well. What do you suggest?" He paused. "Do people still wear jeans in the future? I might have a spare pair in my locker."

"Not really", she said. "But you can get away with quite a bit. I'd lose the jacket and tie, though, maybe unbutton the waistcoat…" She walked over to Ianto and practically started undressing him. He pushed her hands away with a reproachful look, but she winked as she reached up and ruffled his hair a bit. "And that. You are entirely too put together for the 46th century, Ianto."

"I'm too put together for this one," he muttered, placing his coat and tie over a chair. He had on black trousers with a deep turquoise shirt and a black pinstriped waistcoat. Tahlia unbuttoned the waistcoat as well as the first three buttons of his shirt, and he rolled his eyes. "Should I find a choker, perhaps?" he asked.

"Nah, this'll do, although you'd blend in better with a bit of dirt and some sexy stubble," she said thoughtfully, studying his face until Ianto felt himself begin to blush. "Ah well, maybe next time. Now, what you want from John exactly?" she asked, stepping away and getting back to business again.

"Kick his arse," muttered Owen; not to Ianto's surprise, Tosh nodded in agreement. Jack's former partner at the Time Agency had left no love lost when he'd come to Cardiff.

"I'm sure he's kicking himself," Tahlia replied. "And he's not the one who shot Jack."

"Might as well have," Owen replied with a defiant glare in his eyes.

"He didn't give up the information willingly, Owen," she said. "He was drunk, high, and easily manipulated."

Owen held up his hands in mock surrender. "Par for the course for him, I imagine. Doesn't stop me hating the bloody tosspot."

"Ianto?" Tahlia asked, turning away from Owen. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to talk to him myself, find out _exactly_ whathe told Douglas to get some idea of how Douglas could have found out more about Jack's immortality."

"I already told you, Parker was brilliant, so he could have very well worked it out for himself," she replied. "Maybe John will know where he is so we can get answers straight from him."

"That too. And if not, then we wait for Douglas to come back to the Blue Moon." Ianto took a deep breath. "Assuming once he shoots Jack, he even bothers to return."

"But what about Jack?" asked Gwen, her voice sounding concerned. "What if you have to wait hours, or even days?"

"Time travel, Gwen," said Owen, rolling his eyes again. "Honestly woman, you call yourself Torchwood?"

"And when have you ever traveled in time, Owen Harper?" said Gwen.

"Never have, never will," said Owen, crossing his arms over his chest and letting Gwen's attitude roll right over him. He gestured at Tahlia. "What do you two need to do this?" he asked.

"Are you armed?" Tahlia turned toward Ianto, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Of course." He had made sure to arm himself before he'd come to the conference room. He had his standard issue Torchwood weapon at his side, as well as Jack's Webley, recovered from the park, strapped into his ankle holster in a sentimental fit of…well, something. There was also an alien pocketknife in his trousers, and a smaller switchblade tucked into his waistcoat. He felt like a walking armory; all that was missing was a sword thrown over his back.

"All right, that should cover it, I suppose," Tahlia said, nodding in approval. "This might feel a bit strange." She laid a hand on his arm and started programming her wrist strap. "Most people get sick the first few times, especially when it's a big jump."

"Hang on a minute," said Owen, and he ran out and down to the medical bay. He returned quickly and tossed Ianto a plastic bag full of pills. "Blue for nausea, white for pain," he explained with a shrug.

"Thank you," Ianto murmured, oddly touched by Owen's thoughtfulness.

"Where—or when, I suppose—are you planning to jump?" the doctor asked. Ianto looked to Tahlia for the answer.

"Like I said, I asked John to meet me back at the Blue Moon in two hours. We'll jump back earlier if we can so Ianto can get himself acclimated."

"If we can?" asked Ianto.

Tahlia shrugged and gave him a sheepish grin. "Even with Parker's work, traveling by manipulator is not always an exact science. Could be a hour, could be a few depending on local temporal phenomena."

"What's it like, this place?" asked Ianto. "Upscale alien pub or Star Wars cantina?"

Owen snorted, but Tahlia obviously did not understand the reference. "It's not the worst place out there. Clean, simple, hell of a view, but still a bit shady. Lots of aliens makes it a good place to do all sorts of business, especially the questionable kind." She grinned. "You might be in for a shock, actually."

"That's what Jack said," Ianto pointed out. "I've seen aliens before."

"Not like this," she replied with a wink.

"Can I take pictures?" he asked dryly.

"Better not," she said. "Timelines and all that. We're trying to save the future, not change the past."

"Right," Ianto murmured, remembering what was at stake. He was traveling into the future for information that would help them save the Jack, not sight-seeing.

Once of the monitors in the medical bay started beeping. Owen swore and ran out, Gwen at his heels after a small smile and wave for Ianto. Ianto started after them, but Tosh held him back.

"Go," she said softly. "We'll take care of Jack. You get the answers we need to help him."

"But what if he—" Ianto started, and Tosh stopped him.

"He won't. Just come back, quick and safe."

Ianto glanced down at his hands and finally nodded. "I'll do my best," he said.

"Of course you will," said Tosh. "You'd do anything to help Jack, we know that."

"But Tosh, how do I know if I'm doing the right thing, if—" he started again, and once more she stopped him from voicing his fears.

"You'll know," she said, obviously trying to reassure him. "Now go. The sooner you're back with answers, the sooner Jack will get better."

Ianto nodded and turned to Tahlia, who gave him a supportive smile. He took her arm once more, and she pressed one last button on her wrist strap. With a gut-wrenching pull centered around his navel, Ianto felt himself transported away, sucked into the future to find a way to save Jack.

And yet he was still conflicted. How far would Jack want him to go to find answers and fix what had happened? And how far was Ianto willing to go?

* * *

Author's Note:

More everlasting thanks to my lovely beta Tamaar! Next stop: the Blue Moon and John Hart.


	9. Chapter Nine

IX. _Even though the future seems far away, it is actually beginning right now. ~Mattie Stepanek_

The first thing Ianto did when he materialized in the 51st century was turn around, fold over, and vomit. Jack had not been exaggerating when he'd said that traveling thousands of years forward was completely different from jumping an hour or two back, though Ianto had no idea why. He felt like he had been ripped apart atom by atom, then haphazardly stitched back together by a drunken tailor with a broken needle. His skin prickled, his head ached, his heart was racing, and everything he'd had for dinner came right back up as his body tried to adjust to the indescribable sensation of traveling through time and space.

He was dimly aware of Tahlia chuckling behind him and wanted to begrudge her for it, but she had warned him, so he should have been expecting to lose both his dinner and his dignity. Still, it rankled that she was perfectly fine while he was pale and sweating as he stood to take in their surroundings.

They were standing in some sort of alcove, one of many along a short corridor that was crowded and dimly lit. The sight was overwhelming: dozens of aliens hurried back and forth, strange beings of all shapes, sizes, and colors, with any number of heads, eyes, arms, and legs. Ianto recognized a few from his work at Torchwood, though most looked like something from a bad science fiction serial. There were just as many humans as aliens, however. For some reason, that made Ianto more comfortable, to see that the human race had survived the next three thousand years and made it to the stars. He had heard much from Jack, of course, but now he was seeing it, living it. Knowing humanity persevered filled him with a small spark of hope, that Torchwood was doing the right thing when so many times it seemed to go wrong.

Well aware that he was staring, Ianto wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt and closed his gaping mouth, trying to ignore the stale taste of vomit. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other even though his body did not feel anything like it had moments ago and was not cooperating with him particularly well.

"Take one of Owen's pills," said Tahlia, linking her arm with his and steadying him as they stepped out of the alcove and joined the crowd heading toward a large set of double doors at the end of the corridor. "Now that it won't come back up, it'll help with any residual nausea from the jump."

Ianto didn't trust himself to speak and nodded in response, digging the doctor's bag out of his pocket and popping one dry. By then they had joined the queue at the doors. There was sign above them in several languages, none of which Ianto recognized except, thankfully, his own. So English had moved out to the stars as well; another comforting thought.

Tahlia was silent until they came to the doors and were stopped by a large alien with a head that looked remarkably like a rhinoceros.

"The Judoon are bouncers too?" Ianto murmured, recognizing the interplanetary police from both Torchwood files and personal experience. Tahlia produced a small plastic card from her wrist strap, the Judoon scanned it, and they were allowed inside. Ianto wondered if it was some sort of intergalactic credit card. She said something about the Judoon, but whatever she said was lost as Ianto was struck speechless by the sight before him.

The Blue Moon was enormous. Easily the size of two rugby pitches, it was a perfect circle in shape. Everything was made from a deep, dark wood: the floors, the walls, the tables and chairs. The wall stopped about ten feet up, with a glowing blue rail providing ambient light throughout. After that, the wall became a completely clear dome that rose tens of feet above him, showcasing the vast realm of outer space in all its dark, infinite splendor.

If Ianto hadn't taken one of Owen's pills, he was fairly sure he would have retched again; he was grateful to the doctor for thinking of such a small but important detail.

It was stunning. It was terrifying. It was glorious. The black sky above them burned with thousands of stars, but it was not the tiny pinpricks of light that drew Ianto's wide-eyed gaze. On the horizon hung the crescent shape of a very large, very close, and very blue moon. Directly above him swirled the dizzying arms of a spiral galaxy. And to his right, far away yet seemingly so close, twisted the multicolored clouds of a nebula more spectacular than any photographs Ianto had ever seen on Earth.

Beside him, Tahlia let go of his arm and grasped his left hand, squeezing his fingers to catch his eye. He turned to find her watching him with a fond grin, and he wondered how many people had the same reaction, or if it was just a common, everyday sight in the 46th century, this wonder of deep space laid bare above him.

"Told you it was a good view," she said, pulling him toward the perimeter of the dome. The center was taken up by a circular bar, made of the same dark wood as the rest of the room, while the edges were dotted by doors interspersed with tables, chairs, and an occasional colorful sofa. The large open space in between was about half full, and they dodged the aliens wandering about the tables spread throughout, until Tahlia pressed him down onto a comfortable chair along the edge of the dome.

"It's spectacular," Ianto breathed, finding his voice and glancing up once more. "I…I don't even know what to say."

"You can thank me later," she said with a wink. "I'm going to get us something to drink while we wait. It'll help you feel better."

"I feel…" Ianto paused, staring at the dome. "I feel small. Incredibly small."

Tahlia laughed. "I doubt you're that, Ianto Jones. I'll be right back. Don't get into trouble."

Ianto nodded, still entranced by the sights around him even though he knew he had to pull it together. They were there for a reason, not to gawp at the sights like a dumb tourist. Shaking himself back to reality in order to focus on what he was there for, Ianto closed his eyes and took several calming breaths. When he opened them, it was to find himself face to face with a tall humanoid figure that had strikingly blue skin dotted with what appeared to be large green freckles. It was crouching before him, close enough for their knees to touch, and Ianto felt a flare of panic as the alien leaned closer until they were nose to nose. He wasn't sure whether he was about to be kissed or killed.

"You are not from this time, human," said the alien, its voice dry and paper thin. Ianto was surprised to find he understood it; he had expected to be aurally assaulted by dozens of alien languages in the future.

"Not exactly," he started, but was saved when Tahlia returned with two large glasses of what he hoped was something strong, because he needed it. Then again, he needed his wits about him more than a shot of alien alcohol, so water would probably be best, although alien coffee could be interesting.

"He's with me, Illia," said Tahlia. Ianto wasn't sure whether his companion was amused or annoyed by the alien who had accosted him. The creature stood and inclined its head to Tahlia.

"My apologies, Time Agent. I should have realized. I will leave you." The blue-skinned creature bowed and left them, avoiding their eyes. Ianto watched it leave, curious now that the initial rush of panicked adrenaline had subsided.

"Would it have hurt me?" he asked. Tahlia shook her head as she sat down across from him and handed him a glass.

"No, she wouldn't have hurt you," said Tahlia. "Silts are just nosy. They're time sensitive and fancy themselves as some sort of temporal police."

"Like the Time Agency?" asked Ianto, watching warily as Tahlia sipped her glass. She rolled her eyes when she noticed his hesitation.

"It's just mineral water, Ianto. Go ahead and drink it. Stay hydrated."

"Right," he murmured. He sipped at the cool drink and found it was indeed water, but water with a kick, far more pungent and strong and clean tasting than any bottled water he had tried on Earth. "Wait, am I drinking water from another planet?"

"Of course you are," she replied with a laugh. "And to answer your other question, no the Silts are not like the Time Agency at all. They are relatively primitive and simple, they just want to be involved more than their ability allows for."

Ianto thought about asking more, but decided against it. Again, there were more important things to focus on than blue aliens.

"So when are we?" he asked. "Besides the obvious. How long until Hart arrives?"

Tahlia glanced at her wrist. "We're about thirty minutes early, by your time standards. We can sit and wait while you get your space legs under you, so to speak."

"We're not on a ship," Ianto pointed out.

"No, but have you even been off-planet before?" When he shook his head, Tahlia patted him on the leg. "You're taking it well, then. Drink up and ask me anything."

They talked about the bar and the various aliens surrounding them until they had both finished their drinks. "I'll get us another," she said, motioning at a large alien with feathers moving between the tables. "John should be here soon."

"Brilliant," murmured Ianto as Tahlia talked with the yellow bird. He leaned back and was startled by a sound beside him.

"Eye Candy!" drawled a cocky voice he'd recognize anywhere. "Imagine finding you here."

Ianto froze, then stood up as slowly and deliberately as he could. He schooled his features into an unreadable mask, earning a cocked eyebrow from Hart. "John Hart," he finally replied.

"That's Captain John Hart to you. Miss me so much you came to visit, then?"

Ianto answered with a wicked smirk that caused Hart to step back. "Not really," he said, and let loose his balled fist, right into John Hart's jaw.

"Bloody hell, Eye Candy, that hurt!" exclaimed Hart, hand to his jaw. Ianto felt a twinge of guilty pleasure as Hart spit blood onto the floor; it almost made up for the sore knuckles.

"Good," he said, nodding as Tahlia rolled her eyes from across the table. He did not apologize to either of them. "You deserve it."

"Oh, maybe I like it. You and Jack start to play rough yet?" asked John. He worked his jaw a bit and raised an arrogant eyebrow. "Because I could go for that kind of threesome."

Ianto had already had it; the man knew exactly how to quickly infuriate a person. He lunged forward, grabbed John around the neck of his dirty red jacket, and slammed him against the wall behind them as he rammed his gun into John's chin. "Could you really?" he asked, the anger he felt over this man's betrayal bursting to the surface. "Because I could go for something like this."

"Ianto." Tahlia stood and placed a cautionary hand on his arm. Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto saw a Judoon start to move toward them. He shaking as he stared at John, so tempted to put a bullet in him. God, how he hated the man at that moment. Yet he forced himself to stand down, shoving Hart away before they caused a scene. Unfortunately they needed John Hart to find Parker Douglas. The irony burned, that they needed the help of the same man who had enabled it all to happen.

"Much better," murmured John, straightening his clothing with as much dignity as he could. "Not even sure what that was for, to be honest."

Ianto glared at him. "You sold him out," he snapped. "Jack might die because you gave up his secret."

Hart shrugged. "Jack can't die. I saw it myself. I tried it myself. He'll bounce back."

Ianto surged forward again, but Tahlia stopped him. "John, Parker Douglas found a way. I wasn't in time to warn Jack."

"He's dying," Ianto ground out. "And it's your fault."

"I didn't touch him—"

"We know," Tahlia interrupted his protest. "But we still need your help, John."

"With what?" Despite Hart's tone of indifference, Ianto could clearly see that the man was rattled. "I don't know anything more than when I saw you two hours ago. Not sure why I came back, actually."

She raised an eyebrow in challenge. "You had a cut on your temple when I last saw you, and it's healed. So you've been gone for more than two hours. You said you were going to try to stop Douglas, but obviously you didn't because he's shot Jack. That's why you came back."

John sighed as he glanced back and forth between them. Then he seemed to give in, pulling up the nearest chair and collapsing into it as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Fine, fine. Got anything to drink? I could use a stiff one right now—maybe ten or twelve."

Ianto snorted as Tahlia motioned to the feathered server moving between the tables. John ordered something that sounded absolutely horrendous, then fell silent. No one spoke until all three of their drinks appeared from a hole in the center of the table. Hart downed his in one shot before placing it back in the center and pressing a button that Ianto suspected meant 'refill.'

"You should know, Eye Candy," Hart finally began, "that I didn't mean to give up Jack's secret. At least, not if I'd known Douglas was going to go after him."

"You not only told him about Jack's immortality, you told him where to find us!" Ianto exclaimed. "How could you do that to him?"

"I was angry, all right?" said John, voice pitched defensively. "Don't know how long it's been for you lot, but I just left your dreary little city a few weeks ago. Or rather, you kicked me off what could have been a decent planet to shag my way around."

"Of course we kicked you off," said Ianto. "You killed Jack. You shot Owen, attacked Tosh, and poisoned Gwen."

Hart's eyes glanced into the distance, as if remembering. "Yeah, that was brilliant, if I do say so myself." Another glass appeared in the center of the table, and Hart downed a second shot of whatever he had ordered; it must have been foul, because Tahlia was staring at him with a look of disgust on her face. "Except for the bomb that attached itself to my chest, of course."

"_That _was brilliant, if I do say so myself," Ianto murmured.

"Still got that stopwatch?" asked John. He put down his glass and was about to request another when Ianto sat down across from him and grabbed the man's slim wrist.

"If I did," he said, his voice low and threatening, "I would time how long it takes you to tell us everything you know about Parker Douglas."

"All right, all right," said John, wrenching his wrist away and holding his hands up as if in surrender. "You are so intense, Eye Candy. Just like the first time we met."

"I have a name," said Ianto. "Use it."

"In bed, maybe," John replied with a dirty wink. "Or does Jack not share anymore? It was fairly obvious something was going on last I saw you, but how long has it been for you since you kicked me out?"

Ianto narrowed his eyes, taking his time to answer. "Eight months," he replied.

"You with Jack then?" asked John. "Or does he still not do long-term?" Ianto suspected the other man was trying to put on a casual air, but the tone of his voice gave it away; John Hart cared more than he was letting on. Ianto let a dangerous little smile creep over his face. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's none of your business, but yes," said Ianto, leaving it at that. "And I don't share."

"Too bad," John murmured, eyeing him with a leer. "Because I could show you things Jack never dreamed of."

"Not interested," said Ianto. "I'm here to save Jack, not slag off with his psychotic ex-partner."

"I'm not psychotic," John started, but Ianto slammed his hand down on the table, gratified to see the other man jump in surprise.

"No, you're a bloody traitor!" he shouted, earning the annoyed looks of several nearby tables. He lowered his voice and leaned forward over the table into Hart's personal space. "You betrayed Jack to someone very dangerous, and now he's dying. Tell me what you said to Parker Douglas."

John's eyes flickered from Ianto to Tahlia and back. Once again he sighed. "Look, Eye Candy, I didn't mean to betray him. You make it sound like some sort of epic tragedy when you put it that way. I didn't even realize his little trick was such a big secret."

"You think he goes around advertising the fact that he can't die?" Ianto asked, a note of incredulous skepticism in his voice.

John shrugged. "Don't see why not."

Ianto felt like he was dealing with a complete imbecile. He took a deep breath to remain calm. Could Hart really be that ignorant and stupid? How could he not see that Jack's secret put Jack in danger–not from death, but from people who would exploit his inability to die? "I'm not even going to bother explaining it. Tell me what you told Parker Douglas, and everything else you know about him."

"Right." John studied him for a long time. "What if I only told you in bed? Take me up on it?"

Ianto casually reached in the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out the small blade he had hidden there. Offering John another small smile, he unexpectedly leaned over and grabbed him by the chin with one hand, bringing the knife up to John's throat with the other.

"Stop trying to get into my pants and tell me what I need to know, or I will cut it out of you. Slowly."

John slapped the knife away and twisted his head, and Ianto let him, because he had seen the look of surprised defeat in John's eyes. He settled down and watched.

"You're something else, Eye Candy. Fine. I'll tell you what you want to know. But I don't know how it will help you save Jack."

"Then you'll help us figure something out," said Ianto.

"Not sure why I should when you keep threatening me with bodily harm without any bodily reward," said John, sounding petulant. Ianto swore, put his hand to his gun, and was just about the shoot the man in the kneecap when Tahlia finally stepped in.

"Stop it, both you you," she snapped. "This isn't helping Jack at all, this ridiculous pissing contest. John, I know you, and I know you want to help Jack. Otherwise you wouldn't have gone after Parker Douglas last time I saw you. Just talk to us. For Jack."

John glared at Ianto, who glared right back. "For Jack, because yes, I screwed up. I ran into Parker Douglas a few hours ago here at the bar, a few days ago now for me. He'd been out of prison for a month or so, I think, and said he was looking for information on what he'd missed while he was freezing his balls off on Volag-Noc."

John clasped his hands in front of him, his voice turning more serious. "He wouldn't tell me how he'd acquired a manipulator, which should have been a give away, but I was already half drunk and sniffing shimmerdust, so the thought that maybe he'd gone crazy and killed someone for it barely came and went. He bought some more drinks, we got a private room and did another hit of dust, and we talked." John shrugged. "There was a lot to fill him in on, twenty-five years in hell leaves a lot to catch up with. He wanted to know about all sorts of things—the Time Agency, the general political climate, science, history, me, and of course, Jack."

"And it didn't occur to you that he might be asking about Jack for the wrong reasons?" asked Ianto. To his surprise, John shook his head.

"It didn't. He honestly seemed stable enough. I might have said something about my former partner being a self-righteous prick, but he defended Jack, said Jack was just doing his job. He played me. Because that's when he asked about finding Jack, hoping to talk to him. He said he wanted to put his demons to rest. I believed him, he sounded like he truly regretted what he had done and wanted to forgive Jack. I didn't realize he wanted to kill Jack and put his demons to rest permanently."

"You really are a bloody moron, aren't you?" murmured Ianto. "So that's when you let slip about Jack's immortality?"

"Yeah, told him how I'd just left Jack and his perfect little team back on Earth in the early 21st century. Might have ranted a bit about your pretentious base, your stupid car, that bloody coat." John pretended to shudder. "God, that coat. Awful waste of a great arse."

"If you knew Jack, you'd know the coat suits him perfectly," Ianto snapped. "But you don't know him, and you sold him out. Did Douglas say anything about what he was going to do to Jack?"

"Not until the end, no," said John. He glanced at Tahlia before continuing. "He must have slipped me some sort of knock-out drug, because he sat with me, spinning more lies, until I started to fade. When he stood to leave, he whispered in my ear, thanking me for the information because now he could have his revenge. And then he slammed my head into the table."

"That's what clued you in, then? After it was too late?" Ianto asked, dripping sarcasm.

"Bit of a dead give away, yeah," said John. "You know, usually I admire a man who goes all out for a bit of revenge. I realized quick enough that Jack might actually be in danger, only I was practically unconscious at that point and couldn't do anything about it. When I came to, I ran into Tahlia almost immediately and sent her back to warn Jack."

"And you went after Parker," said Tahlia, joining the conversation once again.

"I tried to. I worked the room, tried to get as much intel as I could, followed a lead or two." John made a grand gesture around the bar and then put down his hands. "That's where I am right now, following up on something I heard. I came back for three days, tracking down every lead I could, but I found nothing."

"So you don't know where Douglas is or what he was planning to do?" asked Ianto.

"Not a clue, Eye Candy. That's all I know." Hart gave an Ianto a shrewd look. "But maybe if you tell me what's happened in the past, I can still help."

Ianto exchanged a glance with Tahlia. He wasn't sure whether to trust John Hart with that sort of information and sensed she might know better. She nodded, apparently confident that it was the right thing to do, so Ianto sighed and told Hart everything that had happened in Cardiff.

John gave a low whistle when Ianto had finished. "Hell of a story. Could be a vortex gun, but those won't be invented for a few hundred years. Which means your man probably went into the future to get what he needed, just like you." John leaned back, fingers laced behind his head and a thoughtful look on his face.

Ianto rubbed his hand at the back of his neck as he swore. He'd hoped for answers, but had nothing except more questions. They needed Parker Douglas, but he could be anywhere in space and time. It was lucky enough that they had found John; without a stronger connection to Parker Douglas, there seemed to be no way to find him in the future.

John was watching the doorway, eyes narrowed, when he grinned and stood up to leave. Ianto followed suit, unwilling to let the man out of their sight before he'd proven useful, but Hart held up a hand and stopped him.

"Relax, Eye Candy. I'm not bailing on you. I need to talk to someone who just walked in. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He sauntered across the room toward the door, where a rather large and colorful man had some sort of feline humanoid draped across his arm. John linked elbows with the man's other arm and guided him to a table, ignoring the mewled protests of the feline. Ianto watched them, his nerves on edge.

"Can we trust him?" he asked Tahlia, who was also following John closely. She shrugged.

"Sometimes," she replied. "Depends on the day, depends on the drink." She offered Ianto a wan smile. "I think he'll help us as best as he can, though. He was quite close to Jack when they were partners."

"So I've heard," Ianto murmured, still watching John Hart closely.

"I think John wanted more than Jack," she said, her eyes now on Ianto instead. "And don't forget, Jack has had over a hundred years to get over John; for John, it's been far less time since Jack left the Time Agency and struck out on his own."

"I know," said Ianto, nodding but not looking her in the face. "Jack's told me. Still doesn't mean Hart is trustworthy."

Tahlia patted his leg again. "Not if he's trying to sell you something, no." Ianto snorted and was about to say more, but at that moment John stood and came sauntering back. He grabbed a drink from a nearby server, who squawked in annoyance, and then sat down next to Ianto, throwing his arm around Ianto's shoulder.

"Piece of cake," he announced. "As long as you're in the right place at the right time, know the right people, and ask the right questions."

"What did you find out?" asked Tahlia. Ianto extricated himself from John's arm.

"Douglas was here a month from now…or he will be. Damn, years with the Time Agency and I still can't get my temporal vocabulary straight." He slammed down the rest of his drink. "Our friend over there is addicted to time-jumping. Yesterday he saw Douglas a month from now, said he looked smug the minute he walked in. He went into a private room and didn't come out."

"What do you mean, didn't come out?" Ianto asked, his voice sharp.

Hart shrugged. "Don't know. Either our friend missed it—could have been pissed—or Douglas didn't come out alive."

"Couldn't he just transport out?" asked Ianto.

"It's not allowed in the main areas of the bar," Tahlia replied. "They've got shields up to prevent it. It's their attempt to curb some of the more…questionable activities around here."

Hart snorted. "Questionable doesn't even begin to describe it, gorgeous. And there are always ways around that sort of thing. Anyway, Douglas will be here a month from now, so we just need to go then and wait for him."

He stood up and grinned. "Coming, Eye Candy? You can ride with me this time."

Ianto let his eyes flutter closed as he suppressed a groan. It looked like they were traveling even further into the future. He wasn't looking forward to another jump, but they needed Parker Douglas, and Ianto would do whatever he needed to do to save Jack.

Even work with John Hart.

* * *

Author's Note

Many, many thanks to Tamaar for polishing this chapter and listening to me go on and on about this story. She's helped me iron out so many details I wouldn't have made it this far without her! I'd be stuck wrestling with the complexities of time travel and temporal vocabulary. Hope it was worth the wait. John Hart is a bastard but he is quite fun to write!


	10. Chapter Ten

Warnings for violence, torture, some language.

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X. _It is my feeling that Time ripens all things; with Time all things are revealed; Time is the father of truth. ~Francois Rabelais_

Everything looked exactly the same. Even though Ianto knew they had jumped a month into the future, they were in the same corridor, in the same alcove, with what appeared to be the same aliens rushing back and forth. And he had the same reaction, though this time he was able to swallow the nausea and stop himself from doubling over and making another mess. Owen's pills must have helped settle his stomach.

John Hart strolled over from the next alcove with a smirk on his face. Ianto had refused to travel with him, unable to trust the man completely. Hart had declared it Ianto's loss and rolled his eyes at Ianto's stubborn resistance.

"How're you feeling, Eye Candy?" he drawled. Ianto straightened his shoulders and glared at the man.

"Fine. Let's go." He stepped forward, hoping Tahlia would follow him before he got swept up in the alien crowd.

"Hang on," said John, putting a hand on Ianto's arm. Ianto shook him off with a growl, and Hart held up his hands in defense. "Whoa. Touchy, aren't we?"

"Sod off," Ianto muttered. He may not have vomited, but his stomach was still roiling and his head was pounding. He wondered how many trips it took to adjust to the demands of time travel; he was fairly certain he would never get to that point.

"Look, we can't all go in together," John said under his breath. "Douglas might see us and run. Especially you, Eye Candy. He might shoot more than your hand if he recognizes you."

"I can take care of myself," snapped Ianto.

"I don't doubt it," said Hart, his voice calm and easy. "But if you want to help Jack, cornering Douglas won't cut it. He needs to be worked."

"Didn't take you as one for much caution," said Ianto.

"I do think things through, you know." John pulled the wounded puppy face; Ianto rolled his eyes, wondering if the man had learned it from Jack.

"Except when rare Arcadian diamonds are involved, it would seem."

"Yes, well." John glared at him. "Lesson learned. Women can't be trusted, especially when it comes to jewelry."

"Will you stop already?" Tahlia asked, her voice thick with exasperation. "I swear, the two of you together are worse than Jack and John." They both opened their mouths to protest, but Tahlia shot them a look, and they stopped. "John, have a seat at the bar and wait for Douglas. Stay sober this time. Ianto and I will be in a private room. Bring him there so we don't make a scene."

John waggled his eyebrows. "I love it when you take charge, gorgeous." He blew her a kiss and moved toward the bar, greeting various patrons as he walked between the tables. Ianto felt his lips curl in disgust when a large and rather slimy looking alien grabbed John and snogged the hell out of him. Hart obviously enjoyed it, as he returned the kiss with sloppy enthusiasm. Tahlia shook her head and led Ianto toward one of the doors set along the edges of the dome.

"I hate that man," Ianto muttered.

"He's not so bad, once you get to know him."

"He's insufferable."

"He is. Then again, so is Jack, in his own special way." She winked as she knocked and pushed open the door. "Jack is just more tolerable when it comes to his insufferable-ness."

"And principled," Ianto pointed out. He glanced around the private room. It did not have the same overhead view as the main bar did, although it did have a large window for stargazing. Small and circular, there was enough space for a small table and chairs and an overstuffed sofa. It was a room where just about anything could happen, and probably did; he idly wondered how privacy was maintained during such activities.

"You didn't know Jack before," Tahlia said, throwing herself onto the couch with a sigh. "He wasn't all that much better back in his day."

"I can imagine," Ianto murmured. Jack had admitted as much, so Ianto knew the woman was not exaggerating or telling tales. Jack had been a different man before he had met the Doctor. It was one of the things Ianto admired about Jack, that he had changed and become a better person in spite of all that he'd been through—or perhaps because of it. Jack had even changed in the short time Ianto had known him, as had Ianto. And Ianto knew that things were shifting for them again; there was certainly no way either of them was going to come out of this experience unchanged.

As Ianto thought about Jack, lying in the medical bay under Owen's care, he felt his body tense with anxiety. They had only been gone a short while, and Tahlia's vortex manipulator would ensure they returned near to the time they left, but Ianto still felt nervous and impatient. Jack could be closer to death, yet they were no closer to helping him. He sat down on the other end of the sofa, gazing out the window at the blue moon that now sat high in the sky, trying not to imagine Jack unable to return to the stars one day.

"We'll find him," Tahlia said quietly from next to him, as if reading his mind. "We'll get the answers we need, and we'll save Jack."

He nodded without answering, hoping she was right.

They waited for hours. Apparently John's contact had been wrong about the time. Ianto grew more and more impatient and began pacing the room, only settling down to eat the strange food Tahlia purchased and brought in for them. He let himself be distracted as she told him about the dish—what it was, where it was from, the rather odd way the meat was prepared. He idly wondered if his 21st century digestive system could handle it, though she assured him it would be fine. It was some sort of stew, quite tasty, with bread and cheese and something Tahlia told him was a light wine. She shrugged when he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Good for staying calm," she said and took a long sip. "I'm tired of your pacing."

It was another hour, and Ianto was almost starting to drift off, before John came bursting through the door, dragging a man behind him and tossing him to the floor. Ianto jumped up as he recognized the bedraggled form of Parker Douglas, his green eyes still fanatically bright, lip bleeding where John had apparently punched him. Douglas shot a glare at Hart before turning toward Ianto and standing. He wiped his mouth and smiled, false delight coloring his features.

"Mr. Jones! Whatever are you doing in the 46th century?"

"Looking for you," Ianto growled, drawing his gun as he stepped forward and leveled it at Douglas's forehead. "So start talking."

"What about?" Douglas replied with the same mock sincerity Ianto had seen in the forest with Jack.

John Hart shoved Douglas toward the table and pushed him into a chair. He bound the man's hands behind it, making sure to wrench's Douglas's shoulders painfully into the handcuffs. Grabbing another chair, Hart spun it around and straddled it in front of the older Time Agent. Ianto stood behind Hart, his gun still out but resting at his side.

"You shot my partner," John started. Douglas raised an eyebrow.

"Former partner," he pointed out. "Jack left you and the Time Agency years ago."

"Doesn't matter, he was still my partner," snapped John. "You hurt him, and you used me to do it." Ianto was slightly surprised at this unexpected loyalty, but set it aside to think about later; for all he knew, Hart could be playing at it, putting on the air of concerned partner to lure Parker Douglas into confessing.

"It was so very easy, too," Douglas replied casually. "Did I thank you for it?"

John's face paled, but before he could react, Ianto stepped forward and backhanded Douglas across the temple with the butt of his gun, much as Douglas had done to Jack in the forest. "No more games. Tell us what you did to him."

Douglas shook his head clear and smirked. "Like he said, I shot him. You were there, Mr. Jones. Don't you remember?"

"What did you do to the bullet?" Ianto demanded, ignoring the man's taunts. He needed answers and he needed them quickly, so went with his gut instinct, that it was the bullet which had injured Jack so severely.

"Nothing," Douglas replied calmly. "And everything."

"Where did you get the vortex gun?" asked Hart. Another smirk.

"Very good, but you know where I got it." Douglas glanced at all three of them. "I must say, I'm impressed that you managed to find me. Waste of time, though. You won't find what you're looking for."

John Hart stood and strolled around the room, motioning to Ianto to take the chair in front of Douglas. He turned it so it was facing the right way, then sat down slowly, gun still in his hand, leaning forward and making a show of staring down the man before him. Douglas didn't flinch at all. "And what do you think we're looking for?" asked Ianto.

Douglas leaned forward. "You're trying to save him," he whispered before sitting back with a laugh. "As if he deserves it."

There was a loud crack, and Douglas's face contorted in pain. He did not cry out, however, but merely bit his lip as his eyes flashed with anger. Hart was standing behind the chair, and from Douglas's reaction, Ianto was fairly certain John had snapped one of man's fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto saw Tahlia frown, but she made no move to stop them.

"Tell us what we need to know," Hart said, his voice low and seductive as he leaned over Douglas's shoulder. "Tell us where you got the gun and what you did to the bullet, and we'll let you go alive."

Douglas glanced over his shoulder and laughed. "Of course you won't let me go. I'm not a fool."

"You're a fool if you don't tell us," hissed Hart, and there was another loud crack. This time Douglas groaned, his head falling to his chest, his breath coming in quick gasps as the pain flared with the snap of his finger. "So I suggest you start talking, unless you want me to start counting."

Douglas shook his head. "You can count?" he laughed breathlessly, his head still down. Hart broke a third finger, and Douglas swore as he cried out.

"I can count quite high," Hart whispered. "In fact, I can count all the way to 206, although I suspect I'll only need half that before you're dead from the pain and trauma of multiple fractures."

"You were always the bigger bastard, weren't you?" Douglas snorted as he lifted his head to meet John's eyes over his shoulder.

"I had a job to do and a reputation to maintain," said Hart.

"I endured far worse on Volag-Noc, you know," Douglas offered conversationally.

Ianto drew the man's attention back to him with a tap of his gun against Douglas's knee. "I'm sure we can think of something. The 21st century had its fair share of…unfortunate and rather primitive practices."

"Did Jack show you the ropes, then?" asked Douglas. "And here I thought he'd gone soft, percolating on that planet for so long."

Ianto's face hardened at the man's statement. John grabbed Douglas's broken fingers and squeezed.

"Talk to us, Parker," he hissed in the man's ear. "This is getting boring, and I might have to let the primitive try out his technique on you."

Douglas was breathing rapidly through his mouth. He nodded, causing John to drop his broken fingers and step back. Douglas closed his eyes. "That won't be necessary. I'll tell you what you want to know," he said. Green eyes opened to flash at them above a cruel leer. "Because it won't help you one bit."

Ianto raised his gun and placed it between Douglas's eyes once more. "Why not?" He was surprised at how level his voice was, considering his heart was in his throat. He did not condone torture, but he would not stop it, either. Not for this man, and not when so much was at stake.

"There's nothing you can do," Douglas laughed. "He'll be dead by the time you go back."

"How do you know?" Ianto demanded, and now he pressed a deep circle into the man's forehead, forcing his hand to remain steady. The right side of Douglas's mouth crooked up, but he didn't answer. In the space of a heartbeat, John had reached down, grabbed Douglas's hand, and crushed another finger. This time there was a long howl of pain that did not bother Ianto in the slightest, not for what Douglas had done to Jack and the cruel, flippant attitude he was giving them. A few broken fingers were nothing compared to Jack's suffering.

"Tell the pretty boy what you did," hissed John. "Or we'll move through all 206 bones in the human body nice and slow."

"It doesn't matter," Douglas wheezed. "It's too late."

"Tell me anyway," Ianto growled, resisting the urge to backhand the man to the floor, chair and all.

Parker Douglas pulled himself up straight. His face was lined with pain, his temple bruised and bloodied, the cold grey metal of Ianto's gun still pressing a circle into his forehead. His took a deep breath to compose himself and began to talk; his voice sounded straightforward and sane, not the manic mocking tone of earlier.

"I spent six months in the 56th century working with an underground lab to develop an undetectable biological parasite that feeds off the time vortex. It was in the bullet that I fired at Jack."

"Bullshit," snapped Hart, cuffing Douglas on the side of his face. Douglas replied with a shrug while Ianto stared at him, his mouth hanging open.

"It's the truth. And there is nothing you can do about it because they're all dead and gone now, wiped from history."

"So you not only took future tech into the past, but you _changed_ the future to cover it up?" There was no response, and Hart stepped right up to Douglas's face, practically snarling. "You know that's against the rules. Messing with time is what got you tossed in prison, you bastard."

"I have nothing to lose," the man shrugged. "And everything to gain."

Ianto was confused about that last statement, but decided it was not the most important issue to follow at that moment. He was there to save Jack. "So what you're saying is that there are bugs from the future inside of Jack?"

John Hart frowned at Ianto, but Douglas grinned.

"What a colorful way to put it. Bugs from the future." He lowered his voice so that Ianto had to lean forward. "And they are indestructible, these bugs. I assure you."

"That's what you think," Ianto replied, meeting the man's gaze without flinching. He would not be cowed by a madman from the future.

"Oh, it's future tech, advanced biological nanotechnology that even Ms. Sato won't be able to stop."

"You've never met her," said Ianto, pitching his voice with more confidence than he felt. Just the fact that Douglas knew Tosh's name rattled him; what else did he know? Douglas merely raised an eyebrow.

"That's true, maybe I should have killed her to be sure." He sat back and glanced at them all with a broad smile. "Mind you, I didn't think you'd jump three thousand years into the future to try to save him." He turned to Thalia for the first time. "Then again, Ms. Blake has always had too much of a conscience and that beautiful bleeding heart. Of course she's helping you."

Ianto glanced over at Tahlia, who stared at Douglas with icy blue eyes. "It keeps me alive and out of prison."

Douglas's face hardened. "Someday it will get you killed, you know."

"Then at least I will have died honorably," she snapped. She stepped up to Douglas and shook her head with disgust. "What happened to you, Parker? I know losing Samantha was hard, but why go after Jack for it? It wasn't his fault."

Douglas let his head fall backward with a bitter laugh. "He was the one in charge of the mission."

"And it almost killed him, having to follow those orders," snapped John. "He left the Agency not long after." Ianto heard the anger and loss in Hart's voice, but once again refused to let it color his impression of the man. John Hart had done enough damage; it would take a lot to earn any sort of forgiveness.

"And I'm supposed to feel bad for Jack because he has a guilty conscience?" Douglas's face twisted, and in spite of several broken fingers, he pulled at the bonds holding his arms behind him, his voice rising. "He killed my wife! Twice! And now he can't die. He deserves far worse than what I've done to him."

Ianto had his gun up once more and pressed against Douglas's head for the third time that night. "Tell us how to stop it."

"I already told you, Mr. Jones—you can't. Those bugs, as you called them, feed on the energy of the time vortex. And the vortex is almost certainly what keeps your Captain alive. So when they are finished feeding off his energy, he'll die." Another manic grin sent chills down Ianto's spine. "It's as simple as that."

"How did you know?" demanded Tahlia as Ianto sat back in shock, letting the gun fall into his lap. So simple, yet so devastating. Martha and Owen had been right.

"Know what?" asked Douglas, swiveling his head to stare at her.

"About Jack, you cockwit," snapped John. "What made you think it was something about the vortex keeping him alive and not some sort of unknown technology?"

"Ahhh." Douglas nodded. "I see. You need to understand before you lose him. Well, since there's nothing you can do, I'll tell you. Have you ever heard the story of the Eternal Lovers?"

John snorted but Tahlia's eyes went wide. She shook her head, as if denying something Ianto had no knowledge of.

"What's the story?" he demanded. "Tell me."

Parker Douglas glanced up at Ianto through hooded eyes, cocking his head and piercing Ianto with such a strong, penetrating look that Ianto had to force himself to not squirm under the scrutiny. Slowly one side of Douglas's mouth curled up in an almost delighted yet grotesque grin.

"I'd say you might find out soon enough, but that won't be the case much longer." Douglas took a deep breath and laughed through his nose. "Gods, I love the fucked up sense of irony the universe runs on sometimes!"

"What's the story?" Ianto demanded. Something was niggling at the back of his mind, something he didn't want to look at or listen to for fear of what it might reveal. He wanted the story and the cure for Jack. And then he wanted Parker Douglas to pay for what he had done, once they didn't need him anymore.

"The legend of the Eternal Lovers is exactly that—a legend, a story," said Tahlia. "It's not real. They don't exist."

"Come now, Ms. Blake," said Douglas, raising an eyebrow. "How can you still think that, when you actually know someone who can't ever die? Surely if Jack can live forever, a simple story about two lovers who spend eternity together can't be that hard to believe?"

Tahlia was shaking her head again. "Tahlia," said Ianto, fixing her with a glare. "What's the story?"

"It's a fairytale," she said. "A legend that's hundreds, if not thousands of years old. It's the story of a man who died and looked into the heart of time, hoping to see his lover one last time before he passed beyond the veil of life and death. But time became a part of him instead, and the man became immortal. His mortal lover, distraught at having to leave the man alone one day, searched and searched for a cure until he took the same curse upon himself so that he could be by the man's side forever." She turned wide eyes on Ianto, and he felt his stomach twist as he understood.

_Jack?_

Ianto whirled on Parker Douglas. "Is it Jack? In the future? Is that who the story is about?"

"I have no idea," said Douglas with an indifferent shrug. "Who knows? Who cares. It's a good story, though, and for some reason, when John told me Jack couldn't die, it was the first thing I thought of. A man who had looked into the depths of time, who had time itself somehow woven into every cell of his body. A fixed point—or person—in time, a man who could live forever. Certainly sounded like Jack."

"So what did you do, track them down?" asked John, his voice still laced with skepticism. "These Eternal Lovers?" Ianto barely heard Douglas's answer, his mind still turning over the man's previous words.

_A fixed point in time._

Jack had not told Ianto everything about his past, but he'd told Ianto enough. Ianto knew Jack's curse, what had happened to him when he had first died and Rose Tyler had brought him back, however unintentionally, for eternity. He was a fixed point—or person—in space and time. It was why the Doctor had left Jack, why Jack had run after the Doctor desperate for answers.

Jack was forever. _Eternal._

Douglas snorted, bringing Ianto back to the present. "Of course I didn't find them, it's a myth, a legend. But legends start somewhere. So I did a bit of research, confirming at least the possibility of my suspicions, that perhaps Jack couldn't die because he was wrapped up in the vortex, forever bringing him back. And then I jumped to the future, determined to create a weapon that would destroy such man, a man whose life and death was connected to time itself. It took me months, but I had all the time in the world."

The three of them were silent, their stunned shock filling the room. Parker Douglas gave them each an innocent look, mocking in its insincerity. "And it would appear I was right, wouldn't it? About the vortex? Jack _is _dying and there is nothing you can do."

Ianto's head fell to his chest. "No," he whispered. He raised his gun and pressed it to Douglas's head. "I don't accept it. I won't. There must be something we can do."

"I don't think so, Mr. Jones," said Douglas. "I was very thorough. And I—" He was cut off mid-sentence by a beeping sound from his wrist strap, echoed by Tahlia's manipulator as well as John Hart's.

"What's that?" Ianto demanded. Both Tahlia and John were examining their wrist straps.

"Proof," replied Douglas, and he closed his eyes with a small smile.

"Of what?" said Ianto.

"It looks like some sort of temporal wave," replied Hart.

"That it's starting," said Douglas. He sounded positively gleeful.

"What's starting?" asked Tahlia before Ianto could say anything. John was furiously punching at the buttons on his wrist strap, searching for answers.

Ianto had finally had enough. He flicked the safety, thumbed the trigger, and shot Douglas in the foot. The man screamed as both Tahlia and Hart jumped at the unexpected response.

"Answer her," Ianto growled in the man's face. "What's starting?"

Parker Douglas gritted his teeth and glared at Ianto. "Think about it. If Jack Harkness is a fixed point in time, what happens when you take away that fixed point?" He grinned up at Ianto, green eyes bright with pain, but also with victory. "What happens to the universe when he dies?"

"No," whispered Ianto, while Tahlia swore vehemently beside him.

"Oh yes," Douglas whispered back, drawing out the final sound with an insane grin that almost made Ianto shoot him between the eyes. He forced himself to turn away from the murderer before him.

"We need to get back to Jack," he said. The panic was growing, that not only had they failed to find a cure, but that they might be too late. He needed to see Jack, needed to know Jack was still alive, still fighting. He clung to that smallest hope knowing that if he did not, he would fall apart and never find it within himself to be put back together again. Not after so much death, so much loss, so much pain.

Tahlia grabbed his arm before he reached the door. "And do what?" she asked. "We still don't have any real answers, Ianto. We have to keep looking for a cure!"

"Look all you want," called Parker Douglas. "You won't find anything, anywhere. And when Jack dies..." He trailed off, mouthing 'boom!' before laughing out loud, the sound cutting into Ianto's racing heart like a knife until John Hart punched Douglas in the mouth, forcing Douglas silent up as he spit blood onto the floor.

Ianto stared at Douglas with anguish flowing through his veins like fire and ice. He didn't want to believe the madman, but it all made a sickening sort of sense. Jack was a fixed point in time, and from what little Ianto understood about such things, Jack could very well affect the fabric of the universe if he should die. On the other hand, Ianto wanted to believe that Douglas was wrong, that he had based his actions on the ancient legend of a man who had nothing to do with Jack. Yet Jack was lying in the medical bay of the Hub, growing weaker, and if the alert on the three manipulators was indeed proof of something, then perhaps Jack was desperately close to death, and it was affecting all of time and space.

Raising his eyes from Douglas to where Hart stood beside the man, looking almost as stricken as Ianto felt, Ianto cocked an eyebrow. "What do we do with him?" he asked. "Can you take care of him?"

"'Course I can," said Hart with an inelegant snort. "Although personally I think he's outlived his usefulness."

"No!" Ianto snapped, taking a step closer and raising a hand to Hart. "Don't touch him. We might still need him."

"Doesn't matter," Douglas murmured in a singsong voice that made Ianto's skin break out in gooseflesh.

"Shut up!" he shouted. He turned to Tahlia. "I need to see Jack. I have to know that he's all right. We can come back to question him more if we need to."

Parker Douglas shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You won't need to. He'll die and that will be the end of it. You can't bring the dead back to life, no matter what century you live in, and Jack Harkness is a dead man."

"He's not going to die!" snapped Ianto. "So sit down, shut up, and think about how to stop this, because I'll be back and I _will_ get the answers I need, no matter how primitive my technique."

He didn't stop to think about what following through on his threat might mean, only that he would if he need to. But right then he needed to see Jack and reassure himself that Jack was still alive, still fighting. He would deal with Douglas when he needed to.

"I can't stop it and I can't reverse it. And I wouldn't if I could."

"Then we'll jump again, find the answers in the future—" Ianto started, but Douglas shook his head and laughed at them again.

"You don't get it, do you? I made sure I cleaned up after myself. There is nothing in the future for you to find, just like there is nothing in the past. And there is nothing here, in the present, either. You could break into my mind, you could travel across galaxies, you could jump across millennia…but you can't stop it."

"So sure, are you?" asked Hart, holding Ianto's gaze, an enigmatic set to his face.

"I'm sure," Douglas whispered. Hart sighed, swore, and slammed the butt of his gun into Douglas's head, knocking the man to the floor.

"I'll take care of it," he said. He nodded at the doorway. "You two get back to your time. Make sure Jack is alive. Who knows, maybe he'll know what to do. He's the only one who has ever experienced this, after all."

"What about—" started Ianto, but Hart waved him off.

"Go," he said. "I'll take care of him. You go to Jack."

Ianto gazed at John Hart for a long moment before nodding. "Thank you," he said.

Hart gave him a crooked grin. "Don't thank me yet, Eye Candy. Just save him."

Ianto motioned Tahlia from the room, but before they had gone ten feet, he heard another shout from behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, and he knew without a doubt that Parker Douglas was dead. Blind fury rose up in him, that Hart had killed their only real chance of saving Jack. Even though he knew deep down that Douglas could do nothing for them, he had still clung to the possibility, to that one last hope, and now it had been ripped away.

He almost turned and stormed back into the room to confront Hart, but Tahlia pulled him away, through the bar and back to the entryway alcoves for teleport. He was shaking with anger and adrenaline and anxiety, dreading what they would find when they returned to the Hub. Worse still, he would have to tell Jack what they had learned, which was really so little. Ianto hoped that Tosh and Owen could work with what Douglas had told them to find the cure.

He couldn't stop his hands from shaking, or his breath from quickening, until he wanted to give in to the sudden fear and panic and rage at the world around him. He wanted to go back into the pub and beat the shit out of John Hart for shooting Parker Douglas. He wanted to rush back to Jack and will him better, force him to fight harder and stay alive. And he wanted to run as far as he could from the inevitable truth he felt deep in his soul: Parker Douglas was dead, and Jack was dying, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it.

"Ianto!" snapped Tahlia, grabbing his face between her hands. "Look at me. Focus." He forced himself to take several deep breaths and gazed into her deep blue eyes. When he felt himself gaining control, she nodded in support, kissing him full on the lips before he pushed her away, stepping back and gaping at her in surprise. "Just making sure." She winked as she set the coordinates on her wrist strap.

"Making sure of what?" he asked.

"Making sure you're still with me. Let's go. That temporal wave might throw us off, but I'll get us back as close to when we left as I can."

Ianto linked his arm with hers, hoping it wouldn't be too late.

* * *

Author's Notes

You know those chapters that you just hate and dread writing? This was one of those. I put it off and put if off, but it got itself done somehow. Probably because my awesome beta Tamaar is always willing to listen to me moan and groan about it. Or, when the inspiration finally struck, to endure multiple emails of flailing about it. She polished this up and helped me settle Douglas perfectly so please give her many thanks. Ianto may not have got off a shot, dear, but we all know he's still awesome and amazing. I'll let him shoot someone in another fic for you. ;)


	11. Chapter Eleven

XI. _Time brings all things to pass. ~Aeschylus_

They materialized in the open area of the Hub next to the water tower. Ianto felt that now familiar twist in his gut, but he had taken another pill earlier and did not need to fold over and let his stomach unload its contents. He did close his eyes and take several deep breaths to settle himself; as exciting as it had seemed at first, time travel was still not a particularly pleasant sensation.

Opening his eyes, Ianto found Gwen and Owen staring at him from the sofa. Gwen was red-eyed and sniffling, and Owen had his arm around her shoulders as if he had been comforting her. Ianto felt his stomach twist into knots once more, this time with panic as fear rushed through his veins. He gagged as he rushed toward the medical bay, the thought of losing Jack without saying goodbye almost too much to bear. Stopping at the top of the stairs, he turned back toward Gwen and Owen when he saw Tosh sitting by Jack's bed with her head bowed.

"No," he whispered. "He can't be…tell me he's not…" He looked to Owen, not caring what the doctor saw in his face in that devastating moment.

"He's still alive, mate," Owen said softly. "But we had a scare not long ago. And unless you found the miracle cure, he doesn't have long. It's been hours since you left, and I've done all I could, but the infection has spread and his organs are shutting down. I'm sorry, Ianto."

Gwen was watching him with bright eyes, as if she was holding back tears only for his sake. Ianto shook his head, let it fall to his chest, and heard her choke back a sob as she realized the truth without confirmation. He felt Tahlia's hand on his shoulder and reached up to grasp it tightly. "There is no cure," he told the others, letting his eyes slip closed. "Parker Douglas is dead."

"Go see Jack," said Owen. He didn't ask any questions, but stood and nodded his acknowledgement. "I think he's only holding on for you." Gwen choked back another sob, and even Owen's voice was rough with emotion. Ianto turned and hurried down the stairs alone, leaving Tahlia to explain to them what had happened in the future.

Tosh was sitting with Jack, holding his hand and smiling as she talked quietly. His eyes were closed and he was wearing an oxygen mask; he looked far worse than when Ianto had left. When she heard Ianto behind her, Tosh leaned forward and whispered something to Jack, kissed him on the cheek, and left his side. Ianto watched as she came toward him, the unasked question clear on her face, his heart breaking for the answer he had to give once more.

He shook his head; she sighed sadly in return.

"I'm so sorry, Ianto," she whispered, kissing his cheek as she had just kissed Jack. "I know you tried."

He couldn't talk; the words were stuck in his throat, a hard lump threatening to choke him. He glanced down into sympathetic eyes, letting her see his pain for one brief moment; he knew he'd break down if he didn't pull it back in again and bury it deep for them all.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for all you've done, for how hard you've tried, and for staying with him."

A warm hand cupped his face, as if searching for the tears he would not let fall, not then, not yet. "Of course," said Tosh. "I'd do anything for him, for both of you. I'm sorry I couldn't help more."

Her voice broke, and Ianto kissed her forehead as he enveloped her in a hug; if he was squeezing her a bit more tightly than he normally would have, he told himself it was for her sake and not for his. They stood holding one another, silent and still, before Tosh squeezed him back and stepped away, wiping her eyes. She left the medical bay with one last glance at Jack, leaving Ianto alone with the man he had tried so hard to save but knew he would lose despite of all their efforts.

Ianto was not sure how long they had been gone, though it could not have been that long. The hours had taken their toll on Jack, for he looked more dead than alive. It was hard to believe that he wasn't going to wake up in perfect health with the familiar startling gasp at any moment. Ianto had seen Jack die, watched over his pale corpse, held him as life rushed through his cold body. Yet this was so different, so much harder, because this time, when Jack died, he wouldn't come back. Ianto knew that now, not only from what he had learned in the future, but from looking at Jack.

Jack was leaving him.

Ianto almost turned away, a desperate desire to run flooding through him. He forced himself to move forward, to take Tosh's place at Jack's side, because he would not abandon Jack at the one time he needed someone more than any other—the last time. Ianto felt as if he might shatter at any moment, but he would stay by Jack's side until the end, no matter how hard it was, and only then would he fall apart. Alone, when Jack was gone.

Jack seemed to sense Ianto's presence. He began to stir, and Ianto took his hand, hoping and praying that he would wake one more time. God, there was so much he wanted to say. Where would he start? How could he stop? What if Jack didn't wake up? Why hadn't he said it all before?

There was the slightest change in pressure against his fingers, and Ianto glanced down to find Jack watching him through exhausted, half-open eyes. Yet he still smiled, and Ianto could only hope that Jack was smiling because he was there. He ran a gentle hand over Jack's face as Jack reached up to take off the oxygen mask that covered his mouth.

"Hey." Jack's voice was so weak that Ianto almost broke down and cried. That voice, that accent, had never sounded so tired and broken before—so final.

"Hey," said Ianto, trying for a brave smile even though he knew Jack would see right through it.

"No luck, then?" asked Jack. Of course he could cut right to the details. Ianto had only his honesty left to offer; he shook his head, answer enough until he could speak.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and he hated that his voice cracked, because he wanted to stay strong for Jack, for this amazing man who was dying after living far longer than anyone ever should. Ianto took a deep breath to support his shaky voice. "We tried. We found Douglas, and we talked to him, but it was exactly as we suspected—he got everything from the future and then came back in time to kill you. He said there's no cure."

"And Parker?" asked Jack. Ianto wanted to lie, wanted to spare Jack the pain, but again, he knew Jack would see right through him and would want the truth.

"He's dead."

Jack's face shifted in a way only Ianto could understand, and he let his head fall as he shook it, answering the unasked question but unable to meet Jack's eyes. "No, I didn't kill him. Would have liked to, but I didn't. I know that's not what you would have wanted." He didn't tell Jack what had really happened with John Hart. Jack didn't need to know the details; it would only make his passing that much harder.

The man lying before him seemed to accept Ianto's answer and sighed, letting his eyes close. He was quiet for so long that Ianto glanced up at the monitors and frowned, but Jack was still there, sleeping or unconscious once more. Ianto didn't know how long it was before Jack spoke. This time he didn't open his eyes.

"Ianto Jones," he whispered. "This was not supposed to happen this way, you know."

Ianto let his face twist with emotion, knowing that Jack wouldn't see his pain. "I know," he managed to reply, clearing his throat to hold back the sobs he was trying so hard to keep inside.

"I always thought I would be the one to lose you, to hold you in my arms when you died. I accepted it. It's the price I pay for the life I live." Jack opened his eyes, and there were tears there that broke Ianto's heart into pieces all over again. He wasn't sure how many times he'd be able to survive it, this constant battering of his deepest feelings and emotions. "It's the risk I take for daring to love."

Ianto glanced away to compose himself, wiping his own eyes and squeezing Jack's hand before turning back. "I thought I'd go the same way," he murmured. He had accepted it as well, just as Jack had. It was the price they paid for Torchwood, and for each other. "I only hoped that it wouldn't hurt you too badly, that you would move on quickly."

"I don't want this for you," said Jack. "I would give anything to take this for you. I know how much it hurts."

"I know," said Ianto, meeting the other man's eyes with a sad smile. "I know you do. But you've lost enough, Jack. Maybe it's meant to be this way."

Jack frowned as tears fell from his eyes, and he coughed, sounding more like a half-sob, half-laugh. He shook his head in obvious frustration. "I wish I had more time. So many years, and right now all I want is more time to be with you."

Ianto let his chest shake with silent tears at the realization that Jack wanted to stay with him when Ianto would give almost anything for that to happen; it was all he wanted at that moment, had wanted for months. He lowered his head again so that the other man couldn't see his anguish, fingers curling around Jack's hand, held tight in front of his chest. "I'm just glad we had the time we did." He clung to the sentiment although he hated it; their time together was too short, just like his time with Lisa. It was not fair, this shouldn't be happening—not like this. Not again.

"That sounds like an old greeting card," Jack murmured, and Ianto looked up, laughing on a sob he couldn't hold back.

"It's true, though. I am. And Jack, I'll…I'll be all right." He didn't believe it, not for a second, but he had to say it, because he knew Jack was thinking about it. About Ianto, and how he would bear another loss after his family, after London, after Lisa.

"I wish I could be there for you," said Jack. Ianto could feel Jack's sorrow and anger, that this time he would not be there to hold Ianto, to pick him up and put him back together. He wasn't sure anyone could, this time. Losing Jack would surely break him, in spite of what he'd said about being all right. It was too much after a lifetime of heartbreak.

"You were," Ianto said, brushing his free hand across Jack's face once more. "You _were_ there for me, every time I needed you. And now I'm here for you."

"I don't want to leave you." His voice was getting weaker, and Ianto moved closer to be able to hear him.

"I don't want you to leave," he replied, forcing another smile. "But you've lived a long, full, amazing life, Jack. I don't want to keep you here, either. Not when you're in so much pain."

Jack's eyes closed once more, as if Ianto's words had somehow released him. Ianto could only imagine the man's inner conflict between his desire to stay and his longing to move on after so many years of living with the burden of immortality. He heard Jack take a long shuddering breath; it sent shivers of fear through him, knowing the end was near.

"Will you stay with me?" asked Jack, and Ianto nodded through his tears, falling freely now to land on Jack's chest.

"I always do," he whispered.

"I won't come back this time," said Jack. He was fading quickly, too quickly. Ianto leaned forward, taking both of Jack's hands now and holding them tight against him as he pressed a kiss to Jack's dry lips.

"And I will miss that, Jack," he said, letting his forehead lay gently against Jack's. He closed his eyes and breathed with Jack, speaking softly through his tears. "I will miss you flailing back to life, and your accent and that coat and your stories and the way you…" Ianto trailed off as the silence in the room enveloped him; the monitors had gone flat.

"I will miss you, Jack Harkness," he whispered, voice breaking.

There was no answer. Jack was gone.

* * *

Author's Note

He is. I did.

Have a tissue. And a hug.

(And many, many thanks to the lovely Tamaar for the beta job, as always!)


	12. Chapter Twelve

XII. _Hide nothing, for time, which sees all and hears all, exposes all. ~Sophocles_

Ianto prepared Jack's body slowly and with great care. He was the one who knew it best, after all, and he needed this time alone, even if Jack was silent and still. Ianto meticulously washed his captain, friend, and lover; forgoing the more traditional scrubs for cryofreeze, he then dressed Jack in the clothing he had loved, the period that had defined him: khakis and a blue shirt, braces and a belt. He refused any help from the others and worked stoically, his thoughts focused only on duty, not sorrow.

When he finished, he went to the morgue alone, once more refusing to allow the others to accompany him. Tosh looked as broken as he had ever seen her, and Ianto felt bad for not helping her through her pain, but he couldn't be with them, not then—not when he had tried so hard and failed them all. Gwen looked ready to argue, to demand she be allowed in, but Owen stopped her, his eyes filled with pity. Ianto couldn't face either of them, their anger or their pity. He snapped and left them to mourn on their own, following Jack down to the morgue to finish what he had begun in laying their leader to rest.

Although he had stored dozens of bodies, including people he had known, this was different. This was Jack he was arranging in the cold drawer, Jack he was kissing goodbye, Jack he was pulling the sheet over, tucking it up to his chin. Without warning, Ianto's knees buckled beneath him, and he stopped, unable to finish, unwilling to shut the drawer and mark it over. It couldn't be over. Jack couldn't be dead.

And yet, even though the tiniest spark of hope still burned in the back of his mind, he knew deep down that Jack wasn't coming back. Ianto just needed one last physical connection before he accepted it. He took Jack's body from the cold slab and sat with it on the floor, because that was what he did when Jack died: he held Jack in his lap until he gasped back to life. Ianto couldn't let Jack down now, and so he held him one last time, praying for that gasp, even though he knew it would never come. He closed his eyes and let his tears fall to land on Jack's pale face.

He sat there for hours, growing cold and numb with each passing hour but not caring.

His vigil—if he could call it that—was interrupted by the sound of voices growing nearer. Angry voices: Owen swearing, and Gwen trying to keep things calm. And a new voice he didn't recognize, demanding to see Jack. Ianto took a deep breath and pulled Jack closer to him, as if to protect his dead lover. Whoever this person was, Ianto would not permit him to disturb Jack's final rest.

A man in a blue suit and trainers burst into the morgue, hair askew and dark glasses perched precariously on his face. He took them off as he slowed down to approach Ianto and Jack.

"Oh no," he whispered. "It can't be. It's not possible."

Ianto instinctively knew who the man was. Maybe he recognized him from Torchwood One's files, maybe from what Jack had told him. It was impossible not to sense, deep down, that this man was not human. Ianto could almost feel time swirling in eddies around the visitor as he continued to approach the wall where Ianto sat with Jack still in his arms.

Gently lowering Jack to the floor, Ianto ran his hand across a cold cheek before standing to face the intruder before him, who was still staring down at Jack's body as if struggling to understand. The rest of the team and Tahlia had crowded into the morgue as well, eyes wide as they watched the strange man approach Ianto.

"Is he really gone?" the man asked. He looked up from Jack and faced Ianto.

Every ounce of fury and loss flooded through Ianto as he processed those words, that this man who had treated Jack so badly would now show up to question and mourn his death. Ianto took one step forward, trying to control his anger, but his hands balled into fists at his sides. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Owen shaking his head and ignored him.

"He's dead," Ianto replied in a dull, quiet voice. Gwen and Tosh both stifled another cry and turned to each other for comfort. He ignored them as well; there would be time for them to mourn together later. He concentrated on the man before him, on forcing him away from Jack, away from Jack's team. "And he's not coming back."

The man in the blue suit shook his head, one hand going to his hip as the other ran through his already messy hair and then pulled at his glasses. "But that's not possible. Jack always comes back."

"Not this time." The man's reaction was unnerving, and Ianto was finding it harder and harder to control his anger.

"But he has to," the man murmured as if talking to himself. "He's a fixed point in time, he can't—"

Ianto lashed out, hitting the man square in the jaw with his right fist as hard as he could. He shook out his fingers as the Doctor careened backward, hand to his face and eyes wide in shock.

"What was that for?" he demanded, his voice high with indignant surprise.

"That was for what you did to him. For leaving him." Ianto glared at the man, his lips forming an ugly grimace, his breathing quick. "For daring to come here and demand he come back, when you know damn well all he ever wanted was to be normal, to be fixed—_to be able to die_."

"I couldn't fix him," the Doctor replied, shaking his head. "No one can. He is what he is, and there is nothing I can do about it."

"Then let him die in peace!" Ianto heard his voice break and took a deep breath. "Get out. This has nothing to do with you. In fact, it's happened in spite of you. You should be happy for him." That last surprised him, and the others glanced up in shock, but it was true, wasn't it? Jack had run after the Doctor to find answers, to find release from the curse that bound him to life for eternity. Yet the Doctor had offered no answers, no cure, because Jack was forever.

Well, Jack had now had his deepest desire come true: he was mortal. He had not been able to live a mortal life and grow old, but he had been granted that final gift of mortality that he had craved for so long. The Doctor couldn't take away Jack's death when he had already taken so much of Jack's life; Ianto would not allow it.

"You don't understand," the other man said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stared down with a sad expression at Jack. "He's a fixed point in time. You can't just take out a fixed point in time and expect the universe to carry on as if nothing has happened."

"Well, it _will_ just have to carry on," snapped Ianto. "Because there is nothing you can do. He's dead." He choked out the last two words, and then Owen was there beside him, taking his hand as if to check his knuckles, though he was probably holding Ianto back from another right hook; maybe he was even offering his own unique form of support.

The Doctor glanced around at them all. "I'm sorry for your loss, but Jack isn't supposed to die. He _can't_ die. Time is unraveling around him. I felt it as soon as it happened."

Owen was murmuring something about ice for Ianto's hand, but Ianto threw him off and went back to stand by Jack, as if he could protect him somehow from the madman before them.

"What you mean, time is unraveling?" asked Gwen, carefully approaching the Doctor. Tosh stayed back with Tahlia. Owen, oddly enough, moved closer to Ianto, as if in silent support, though also close enough to stop him if he tried anything.

The Doctor gave Ianto a long, thoughtful look before turning to Gwen. "Right. See, Jack is a fixed point in time—"

"What does that mean, a fixed point?" asked Owen. "He's never mentioned it." Jack had not told the team many details about his immortality, but Ianto had known more. He hadn't completely understood, but Jack had tried to explain it late one night after a particularly close call with a multi-limbed alien from the other side of the galaxy.

The Doctor appeared frustrated. He turned and began to pace. "That's because it's a bit complicated for humans," he muttered.

"Try us," said Owen, and Ianto blinked, surprised at the steel in the doctor's voice.

The Doctor paused and looked up; they were all watching him, and he seemed to realize the grim seriousness of the men and women facing him for the first time. "Fine. Think of it this way. Jack is like a button in the fabric of space and time." He paused and grinned. "A very colorful button, not necessarily a functional one, but his presence in the space-time continuum is permanent. He's sewn into the fabric, so to speak. Forever. Now that he's dead, it's like the button has been ripped out, and the fabric is unraveling thread by thread around the hole." He made a gesture toward Jack. "Around him. I can see it."

"You can see it?" asked Tosh, moving forward. Ianto suspected this was something she would understand better than any of them and was grateful for her calm presence. The Doctor turned toward her and nodded.

"I can. I can feel it. I'm surprised you can't."

"We're only human," Owen drawled sarcastically, and the Doctor nodded.

"I know, but it just seems so obvious. And with this Rift you're sitting on, it's only going to get worse."

"What do you mean, worse?" asked Gwen. Ianto glanced at Tosh, because even for his limited understanding of space-time physics, he understood this. She nodded at him, eyes wide as the implications began to run through her mind as well. Ianto spoke up wearily.

"The Rift is like a tear in the fabric of space time. If the fabric is unraveling around the hold Jack's button left behind and meets the tear—"

"It breaks open even wider," finished the Doctor, nodding in pleased surprise. "And you lot already have your hands full with your little tear here in Cardiff. You don't want a full blown rip in space-time that you can't close."

Everyone was silent as they imagined the consequences of something even larger than the Rift opening in Cardiff. The Doctor interrupted them by clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

"Right, so how do we fix this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Jack. "How to fix this…"

"A new button?" asked Tosh, and Gwen turned toward her with a puzzled look. "To keep time from unraveling around Jack. Or a patch, more like."

"A good idea in theory, a difficult one in practice," said the Doctor, one hand on his chin. "Patches tend to wear out, by my experience. Fixing something like this usually takes more than a patch."

"Like what?" asked Owen. "Because we're not exactly expert tailors in repairing the space-time continuum around here."

The Doctor pierced him with an enigmatic look. "I know. And believe it or not, neither am I. Not when it comes to Jack. He's an impossible thing."

Ianto felt his muscles tense. He had heard that before, from Jack, and he knew exactly how much it had hurt Jack to hear those words from the man he had waited decades to meet again. Owen reached out and touched his arm, sensing Ianto's move forward, and Ianto took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Don't call him that," he ground out. "He was a man like any of us, and he suffered more than anyone because of that impossible thing."

"I know," said the Doctor, and he sounded regretful. "I do. I know that now. But that doesn't change what we have to do to fix this."

No one spoke, until it slowly began to dawn on Ianto what the Doctor was talking about. This was a man who could travel in space and time. He could do anything, go anywhere, _anywhen_. Jack had gone to the end of the universe with the Doctor and lived through a paradox that would have left lesser men reeling. From the way the Doctor was watching him, Ianto suspected he knew exactly what the Doctor was planning.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head and stepping back toward Jack, as if to protect him once again. "You can't."

"We don't have any choice," the Doctor said. "We have to. It's the only way to fix the hole Jack's button left: make sure it doesn't happen in the first place."

"No!" Ianto exclaimed. "I already told you—he's suffered enough. You took his chance at a normal life, you can't take his chance at a normal death."

They stared at one another, blue eyes boring into brown, until the Doctor stood down, stepping away and turning toward the others. "Can we have some privacy?" he asked. "I'd like to talk to him alone."

"Ianto?" asked Gwen, and Ianto glanced down at the floor, his mind reeling. This couldn't be happening. Jack was dead, and Ianto was about to fight a Time Lord for that death? He'd give anything to have Jack back and gasping to life in his arms, but he would not sacrifice Jack's deepest desire: to be human, to be mortal. He could not, because he had made a promise to Jack.

He was reminded again of the long months with Lisa, of the agonized decisions he had been forced to make almost every day. It wasn't fair that once more he was caught in the middle.

Then again, much of life at Torchwood wasn't fair.

Ianto took a deep breath and nodded at the others. "I'll be fine. You can go."

Gwen still looked extremely reluctant, Tosh and Tahlia worried and skeptical. Owen placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder and squeezed, and Ianto gave him a thankful nod before the doctor turned and went upstairs with the three women. Ianto was left alone with the Doctor, and they stared at one another for a long moment.

"You're Ianto Jones," the Doctor stated, folding his arms across his chest and tucking his hands under. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"I am," he replied as evenly as he could.

"Jack talked about you, you know," the Doctor continued. "Oh, he talked about all of you, his team. But he talked about you the most. I remember him telling Martha how much he wanted to make it up to you, leaving Torchwood the way he did. How much he wanted to see if there was something more between you, if there _could_ be something more."

Ianto was shocked. He had struggled for a long time after Jack had returned, wanting to believe what Jack said, yet finding it so difficult to trust after all they had been through. Yet here was Jack's Doctor, confirming it so unexpectedly when it had taken months for Ianto to accept Jack's words; even then, he still questioned it at times, whatever it was that they had.

"Did he, then?" asked the Doctor curiously. "Did he make it up to you? Did he let you in?"

"Let me in?" asked Ianto. The Doctor was possibly the last man he wanted to talk to about him and Jack, a total stranger asking about their relationship when sometimes Ianto couldn't even explain it to himself.

"I know from experience that being exceptionally long-lived makes it difficult to let people in—into your lives, into your hearts. Jack wasn't the type to hold back, but I could sense that after a hundred odd years it was getting harder and harder to let himself love. So did he let you in?"

"I'm not sure that's any of your business," Ianto replied stiffly.

"No, you're right, it's probably not," the Doctor agreed. "But you seem to understand him, to care for him. I think he cared about you. I think he let you in."

"And if he did?" asked Ianto.

"Then I'm truly sorry I have to ask this of you," the Doctor replied, watching Ianto's reaction carefully.

"You don't know what you're asking," said Ianto, hating that his voice broke. He took another deep breath to settle himself. "If you did, you wouldn't ask it."

"I do know, and I know how hard it will be." He paused. "Come here for a moment. I want you to see something." Ianto felt his nerves immediately flare with suspicion, and the Doctor rolled his eyes as if he could sense Ianto's reaction. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want you to see Jack the way I see him. Come here."

Ianto felt almost bound to obey, and moved forward reluctantly. The Doctor turned him around to face Jack, lying on the floor, cold and pale and _gone._ Ianto saw a man who was finally at peace. A man he loved and missed, yes, but a man who should not have to sacrifice even more than he already had, even for the Doctor he had idolized for so long.

"Take my hand," said the Doctor, but still Ianto hesitated. "Ianto, I'm not going to hurt you or Jack. Just take my hand. I want you to see."

Ianto placed his hand in the Doctor's…and gasped.

It was as if he had put on a pair of magical glasses. All around him blazed the fabric of time, like a tapestry made from endless strands of light. Each individual thread, radiant and brimming with life, was woven with countless others into complex patterns, breathtaking in their ethereal beauty. Colors he had never dreamed of shone bright with the energy of time and space, swirling in a never-ending dance of love, loss, heartbreak and joy. He felt it in his soul and was staggered by the depth of it, moved to tears yet again when he was certain he had none left. Wiping them dry, he focused on Jack.

God, Jack.

Jack was dead, lifeless, a black ink stain stamped upon a world of vibrant color. Ianto felt his throat constrict, because Jack had always been so bright, so full of life. This was awful, witnessing this darkness instead of the light that had been Jack. He tried to look away, but the Doctor turned him toward Jack once more.

"Look closer now, all around him…can you see it?"

Ianto forced himself to look again, and when he did, he saw it. All around Jack tiny threads of shadowed blackness were slowly rippling outward, darkening the swirling mass of colors, of time, around him. Like a piece of fabric unraveling, time was unraveling around Jack, the hole in space-time growing larger and larger.

It was sickening, the shadow snaking into the world right before him, and Ianto pulled his hand away from the Doctor with another gasp. He leaned forward with hands on his knees, feeling sick but holding back the vomit as best he could, determined to remain strong. He had lost Jack, but he would not have him back only to see him suffer for eternity again.

"There has to be another way," he gasped, standing straight and facing the Doctor. "You can't bring him back, he's dead. And he would want to stay that way."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? You honestly don't think Jack would sacrifice himself if he could save the universe?"

"He has a DNR," Ianto said, working himself up to a new anger. "Do not resuscitate or revive. It was the most ridiculous thing in the world for a man like him to have on file, and yet that tells you everything, doesn't it? He wanted to be able to die. You can't take that away from him."

"I have to." He placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder. "Ianto, listen to me. If time continues to unravel, life as we know it will disappear into a hole in space-time too big for anyone, even me, to fix. Starting right here in Cardiff, with your city, your Rift. We have to fix this."

Ianto let his head fall, his heart racing. He couldn't do it. It was not his decision to make, not his burden to carry. It was Jack's and only Jack's, and Jack was dead. Ianto wanted Jack alive more than anything—a sob escaped his throat just thinking about it—but he could never live with himself knowing that he'd condemned Jack to live for eternity after the man had finally found peace.

He looked up into deep brown eyes and steeled himself.

"Go to hell," he said, and he turned his back on the Doctor, returning to Jack and taking him up in his arms once more.

* * *

Author's Note:

Many, many thanks to my amazing beta Tamaar, who suggested I get this chapter up a bit quicker after several readers thought the last one was the end. Come now, don't you know me? I was aiming to shock, but it's not over by a long shot! There are at least six chapters to go. The next two are putting me under the table, however, so that might take into next week. The next three are finished. So maybe I'll post a one-shot to tide over. Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! Any thoughts on where it's going? I hope you enjoy the rest!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

XIII. _The only thing wrong with immortality is that it tends to go on forever. ~Herb Caen_

Ianto no longer held fast to the hope that Jack was coming back and would gasp and flail to life at any moment. He had seen Jack's death through the Doctor's eyes, the ugly black rip bleeding into the brilliant colors of space and time. It was frightening and comforting at the same time: frightening in the implications for the universe, but comforting in that Jack had moved on from his own personal hell.

He sat in the morgue with Jack, as if protecting him from the fate to which the Doctor would sentence him a second time. The Doctor would sacrifice Jack to save the universe; Ianto could not. He knew Jack's pain and heartbreak, knew how much he had suffered over the years and what it cost him to live and love and lose everyone and everything. Ianto was heartbroken at losing Jack, but he could not condemn Jack to the life he was finally free from, a life he had never chosen and longed to escape.

He stayed so that Jack would be safe. The Doctor could do as he pleased, could go back and change history as he had done so many times already, but Ianto would have nothing to do with it. Yet he sensed that the Doctor wanted permission, and because Jack was dead, the Doctor was seeking it from Ianto instead. It was worse than he had feared, the responsibility of such a devastating decision. He had not wanted it, and yet now it was his.

He had made his decision, but could he live with it?

He was not sure how long he had been in the morgue, having given up on the concept of time and thrown his watch across the room in a fit of irrational anger. As he sat with Jack, his thoughts and emotions shifted between anger, grief, numbness, and an infuriating flicker of doubt that refused to go away. It was as he was staring listlessly at nothing, questioning everything, that Gwen came to see him; he suspected she was only the first.

She appeared in the morgue alone, and Ianto knew from the look on her face what she was going to say even before she said it. And like their confrontation in the boardroom, he dreaded this one as well, because there was no way out of it, no way to avoid the pain it would cause them both.

He stood when he saw her, stuffing his hands in his pockets and watching her approach. She stepped up to the drawer where Jack's body rested, waiting to be frozen as per Torchwood protocol. Running a hand across his face, she brushed dull brown hair from his eyes before glancing sadly at Ianto.

"He's really not coming back this time, is he?" she asked softly. He shook his head.

"Not this time." He tried not to let his muscles twitch as he watched her gaze down at Jack, _his_ Jack, not hers. She had sat with him last time; now it was for him to stay with Jack. After a time she glanced up at Ianto again, only now there was a spark in her eyes, the stubborn one that even Jack dreaded at times.

"So Jack's Doctor," she started. "Seems a bit of a quirky sort."

"Somewhat manic," Ianto agreed.

"Bit of a tosser, really," she said, and Ianto offered a reluctant smile. This was the man who had taken Jack from them, though Ianto knew Jack's past with the Doctor was much more complicated than any of them knew. Gwen was humoring him, working him, but he was fully prepared to hold his own.

"He's a Time Lord," he replied. "And an enemy of Torchwood."

"You think so?" she asked in surprise. "That he's an enemy of Torchwood?"

"It was drilled into us in London, part of the founding charter," Ianto said, then shrugged. "But he also saved Torchwood, even if most of Canary Wharf was destroyed. From what Jack's told me, Torchwood has it wrong when it comes to the Doctor."

"From what Jack's told you…" She trailed off, turning over the words. She had once fancied herself the conscience of their small team, the human aspect the rest of them had clearly lacked or lost. Yet time and time again, she had proven herself just as cold-hearted as anyone; perhaps not when it came to strangers and aliens, but certainly when it came to those closest to her. For all her insight and compassion, Gwen Cooper often failed to offer it to the rest of the team, even Jack.

"Do you suppose he's right, this Doctor?" asked Gwen. Ianto raised a questioning eyebrow in reply. "About Jack and the Rift. Do you think it will get worse?"

Ianto studied her open face, wondering how to answer, how far to go in destroying any hope she had left. He nodded, deciding not to sugarcoat it; he was fairly sure he could predict her response and wasn't sure he could argue with it, but he was too exhausted to be anything but brutally honest. "Yes, I think he's right. I saw it."

Again she paused, as if contemplating a second meaning to his words. "What did you see?" she asked, failing in her attempt to appear casual.

"I saw time, and I saw Jack's place in it, and I saw the hole in time that used to be Jack." Ianto closed his eyes. "I have little doubt the Doctor is right, and that it will spread until the universe collapses into itself."

"Because Jack is dead." It was both a statement and a question.

"He is, Gwen. Don't ask if we're wrong, because we're not."

"I wasn't—" She started to protest, but Ianto stopped her with a look, and she returned to gazing down at Jack, caressing his cheek once more with an intimacy that forced Ianto to look away. "I was. I don't understand how you can be sure. The last time he laid in this drawer for three days before he came back."

"He's not coming back this time, Gwen. I saw it." How many times he would have to repeat himself, he wasn't sure; Gwen could be remarkably bull-headed at times.

Gwen's eyes fell shut as she took a deep breath. "Then maybe we should think about what the Doctor is offering. The chance to bring him back—to save him."

"You do understand what he's proposing?" asked Ianto, wondering if Gwen truly understood the implications of changing history, or if she was grasping at one last chance to save Jack.

"I think so. We go back and stop Jack from being shot in the first place. There's no cure, and since Jack is a fixed point in time and necessary for the continued existence of the universe, then changing time to save him is the only option. It's not a crime."

"It's a crime against Jack and his free will," snapped Ianto. "We wouldn't be saving him, we'd be damning him." He knew his voice was curt, but he wasn't going to control it, not for her. Gwen could bear the brunt of his anger when she instigated it.

"We'd be saving Jack _and _saving the universe. Jack would want that, Ianto," she said, the earnestness he sometimes admired and sometimes hated beginning to come through in her voice. "He would want to be the hero."

"He wanted to die, Gwen."

"Not now, not like this!" she exclaimed. "And not at the expense of the rest of the world."

"No, not now, not like this," he agreed, and was secretly pleased to see her confusion at his confession. "But he wanted to be _able_ to die someday. We can't take that away from him. This could be his only chance."

"Ianto—" she started again, but he cut her off, his ire building.

"You love him, don't you?"

Gwen's wide eyes grew even larger, but she answered honestly after only a moment's hesitation. "Yes, but not in the way that you do."

"Do you love him enough to let him go?"

"Do you?" Gwen challenged.

"Yes." In some ways, it was only because he loved Jack that he could let him go. He had loved Lisa, and he had clung to her, unable to let her die when he still believed he could save her. Yet he _was_ saving Jack by letting him go, and now he held fast to that fragile consolation as the only way he'd see this through and stay sane.

Gwen's face worked as if she was trying to figure out how to continue. She chose the path Ianto knew she would, because sometimes for Gwen, things were far too black and white. "How can you do that, if you love him? Let him go?"

"Because it's what he wanted." Ianto turned away and began to pace. "Gwen, he's lived for over one hundred seventy-five years. He's lost everyone he ever cared about and will continue to lose all the people he loves until…well, forever. Until the end of time." He stopped and gave her a piercing look to drive home his point. "No one should have to endure that. Especially Jack."

Gwen looked slightly stunned at the bluntness of Ianto's words. "I…I suppose I never thought about it that way, losing all those he cared about. He seems so full of life, of love. It didn't really occur to me how painful it might be." She met his eyes, her own full of tears. "Or that he might actually want to die for good."

Ianto almost felt ashamed for making her upset, but plunged on to make sure she understood. "He didn't want to die today, no. Someday, though. All he ever wanted was a normal, mortal life."

"He told you that?" she asked, her voice small and hurt.

"It was obvious," said Ianto, closing his eyes. "You know what he went through when Estelle died. You know that she wasn't an old friend of his father's."

"Yes, but he's never said—"

"He did." Another wide-eyed look had him shaking his head, because her emotions—denial, hurt, resentment—were clear. Jack hadn't shared such things with her, when she had always wanted to be his confidant. "Gwen, stop thinking about yourself, or about you and Jack, and just think of Jack. Immortality cost him happiness."

She colored at his words and grew defensive. "You don't think he was happy here with us?"

He didn't answer, because he found her arrogant assumption that _she_ and she alone made Jack happy and was worth staying for far too frustrating to even acknowledge.

"It's just that…well, the Doctor thinks the universe will end, and you seem to agree." Gwen paused to let her words sink in, but Ianto watched her with a bland look on his face. "Which means we have to save Jack to save the universe, or else we'll all be destroyed by the bloody Rift! We don't have a choice, Ianto."

"There's always a choice. Do you love him enough to sacrifice the universe to let him die in peace?" Ianto threw the harsh words at her; she actually stepped back as if he had slapped her.

"No." It was a whispered breath, laced with shame and shock. He strode up to her and made his final point, twisting the proverbial knife in deeper.

"I do," he practically hissed. "And I can't sacrifice this peaceful mortal death for an immortal life of heartbreak and pain." He stepped back, surprised to find himself breathing quickly as his emotions grew more agitated. "We can't do that to him. _I_ can't do that to him."

He half expected her to back down, but he shouldn't have been surprised when she didn't. This was Gwen, after all, and she was a stubborn minx at best, a cold-hearted bitch at worst. He prepared himself for either as she stalked around Jack's drawer and confronted him face to face.

"You have no right to make that decision, Ianto," she said. "It should be all of us."

"The Doctor didn't ask all of us," Ianto pointed out. "He asked me, and that was only because he couldn't ask Jack."

"Because Jack's dead!" She waved her arms at the cold body behind her. "I know you've seen it, but maybe you're still trying to convince yourself. You said it already: he's not coming back. Don't you want him back? Because the universe will rip itself apart if we don't do anything about it."

"Then let it." He turned away, unable to bear the look in her eyes. Not for the first time, he found himself struggling with his own words and convictions. Could he really sacrifice the universe—billions of beings spread out across countless stars and planets—for one man? "I'd give anything to have him back, but not this. I don't expect you to understand." He kicked at the floor, angry at himself for doubting.

"No, I understand," she said, the tone of her voice the one Ianto had seen her use so many times on others out in the field, usually when she was talking them from the ledge. "You don't want to live without him. And you'll sacrifice your life and that of the entire universe in order to avoid that pain."

Ianto turned and stared at her, willing himself to stand still when all he wanted to do was grab her and shake her. "It's not like that at all," he breathed, letting his incredulity bleed through his tone and his look. Her face blanched with hesitation and doubt, but she continued obstinately.

"Ianto, you can't run, or hide, or give up. You accused me of being selfish, but that's exactly what you're doing now! You can't sacrifice all of creation because you—"

"Stop." He barked it like an order, and she slammed her lips together, obviously shocked at his harsh tone. "I'm not running, I'm not hiding, and I'm not giving up. Don't you dare accuse me of such a thing ever again." He pointed a steady finger at her, the only physical expression of his wrath. "Sometimes you don't know anything, Gwen. Youdon't _understand_, because you haven't suffered like the rest of us. It has nothing to do with me, nothing to do with the rest of the universe, and everything to do with _him. _How can I let him live with agony when he can die with dignity?"

And still she opened her mouth to protest. God, the woman drove him mad sometimes.

"Gwen!" he exclaimed before she could even begin. "Would you sentence Rhys to such a fate? To live forever but leave everyone behind, leave _you_ behind? Could you do that to him, knowing how much pain it would cause him? Could you sentence him to an eternity of torture and sorrow?"

Her mouth hung open like a fish, and he knew he'd almost got through to her. Her voice was unsteady when she answered. "That's completely different. Rhys isn't like Jack, he hasn't lived the same sort of life that Jack has…" She trailed off again.

"Are you saying Jack deserves it?" Ianto asked coldly, and she frowned as she tried to articulate her response.

"No, no, of course not," she said. "It's just that…well…Jack has already lived it, and survived for so long already. He can handle it, I suppose. And he would willingly take it back, if he believed it would save the universe."

"Yes, he would," agreed Ianto, because he knew she was right. Jack would gladly sacrifice himself for the good of the universe. "Which is why he shouldn't. Because he's given up and lost enough already."

"It's the fate of the universe, Ianto!" Gwen exclaimed. "You can't set that against the life of one man!"

Ianto stepped back and tilted his head, offering her a grim smile. "And here I thought you always fought for the one over the many—for the weak, the unprotected, the _human."_

"What?" she asked, obviously confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Your first case, you told us we had all forgotten what it was like to be human. Not long after that you were willing to sacrifice the world to save the life of a child, or to open the Rift to save the life of your lover. You are constantly reminding us of the forgotten victims, even when we know better because _we_ have suffered and you haven't." A deep breath kept him going, spewing forth everything he had ever thought about Gwen and her maddening crusade to always be the heart of Torchwood. "Yet right now you're the biggest bloody hypocrite I've ever met. You would actually sacrifice the forgotten victim here. You would sacrifice Jack to save the world this time, when eighteen months ago you would have done anything to save a total stranger!"

"Ianto," she said, and her face was flushed, as if he had struck her. "That's not true, that's not what's going on here—"

"It is," he said, slashing his hand through the air. "You've always been kind, compassionate and loyal, Gwen, except when it comes to Torchwood. To us, your team. Your family. You question us, doubt us, distrust us, betray us. Not this time." With a turn, Ianto walked past her and stood by Jack. If he had been doubting himself before, Gwen had settled his decision. "Not anymore."

Gwen stared at him. "You don't get to decide for him."

"Yes, I do. I'm his administrative assistant. I have his DNR on file. More importantly, I know Jack, I know his wishes in this, and I will honor them." He sat down on the floor, letting his elbows fall to his knees and his eyes close, a clear signal that the discussion was over. His heart was racing, because deep down he knew this wouldn't be the end of it. He was playing at words, trying to sound far more confident than he actually was. The Doctor might come to understand and even respect Ianto's choice, but in the end, the Doctor would do what he had to do in order to save the universe, and Gwen would support the Doctor, not Ianto.

Gwen stood there for a long moment, but he soon heard her footsteps turn and wander away, and with a sigh of relief, he let his head fall back against the drawer behind him, eyes closed as he struggled to rein in his anger and pain.

There was that small part of him that couldn't help but wonder if he was making the wrong decision. When Jack had asked for his word that Ianto wouldn't do anything Jack wouldn't do, there was no way they could have anticipated the repercussions of his death. There was no way Jack could have known that the universe might end with the loss of his life as a fixed point in time. Gwen was right in thinking that Jack would certainly sacrifice himself to save others, because he'd done it time and time again already. Yet Ianto clung to his steadfast belief that the burden was no longer Jack's to bear. Jack deserved mortality, even if death had come with it. Ianto couldn't live with himself if he were to sentence Jack to live for eternity, no matter if it did save the universe.

Tahlia came to see him next, but she did not talk about Jack or the Doctor or universe-ending rips in space and time. She asked about Gwen, and Ianto found himself venting his frustration with Gwen's misplaced sense of compassion and loyalty, and her obstinate refusal to step back, to let go and accept the situation for what it was: irreversible. Tahlia listened and nodded, and left him with a chaste kiss, offering no advice, only comfort, support, and time alone to sort it all out.

After that, sleep claimed him as he dozed against the wall of the morgue, surrounded by death. The universe was cruel; he dreamed of Lisa when he should have been dreaming of Jack. She was alive, but still encased in her metal prison, and she was directing an army of Cybermen from the Hub, sending them out into Cardiff even as Ianto begged her to stop. She turned dead eyes toward him and spoke in a flat, metallic voice.

"You did not save me. This is the consequence."

Ianto screamed again as he watched Cardiff fall, watched as his city was destroyed and his friends and family became metal monsters in an army of death and horror. Lisa did not kill him, nor did she convert him. For some reason, she kept him as he was, chained and suffering, the only words she spoke to him a repetition of what had become a mantra and a weapon at the same time.

"You did not save me. This is the consequence."

He wanted to yell that yes, he had saved her! He had saved her from becoming what his dream self was facing, a cold, inhuman cyborg bent on destroying the world. Or rather, Jack and the rest of the team had saved her, ending her pain and misery before she could kill any others. At the time, Ianto had been furious with them, but he had quickly accepted it for what it was: a sacrifice for the fate of the planet.

He woke with a gasp as the meaning of his dream slammed into his conscious self and those last eight words echoed in his heart: _a sacrifice for the fate of the planet._ Shaking his head in denial, Ianto bit back sobs as his mind assaulted him with images not of the end of the world, but of the end of the universe. Visions of time ripping itself apart and destroying itself galaxy by galaxy, star by star, and planet by planet.

And him, once again forced to watch, only this time it was not Lisa who stood by and watched with cold detachment. It was Jack, but the words he spoke were the same:

"You did not save me. This is the consequence."

Ianto wasn't sure if the consequences should be damned…or if he should sacrifice his soul and damn himself.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much to Tamaar for fixing the mangled bits of awkward prose here! And for encouraging another scene with Gwen that I hadn't really anticipated becoming so intense until I started writing. In fact, it was enough for me to split the chapter. But the next few are done so I'm on a roll here! Hope you enjoyed the scene, the next one will play out differently and then it really gets exciting. Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

XIV. _Lost time is never found again. ~Benjamin Franklin_

A gentle hand on his shoulder brought Ianto out of a dark daze to find Tosh kneeling on the floor in front of him. She looked worried and exhausted, an unsaid question written across her face. Ianto nodded as he sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes, running a hand through his hair and no doubt mussing it up even more. When Tosh grinned and ducked her head down to hide her amusement, he knew he must look terrible, but it was such a welcome sight to see her smiling that he grinned back and motioned for her to sit beside him.

"I brought you some food. Owen said we living folk needed to eat, so Tahlia dragged him out to pick up Chinese. I think he's even more terrified of her now."

Ianto laughed, a hollow sound that reverberated around the morgue and echoed off the brick walls, mocking him. He stopped abruptly, before laughter became tears. Tosh patted his leg as if she understood perfectly; she probably did.

She pulled two cartons of vegetables and rice from a large white bag Ianto hadn't even noticed. As soon as she did, his stomach growled loudly in recognition, and this time Tosh laughed.

"When was the last time you ate something?" she asked, handing him his favorite dish. He took it gratefully and began eating before answering.

"Quite possibly in the 46th century," he replied. "And that was alien."

Tosh paused with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth and stared at him. "Right. Alien meat." She shook her head and swallowed. "What was it like, the 46th century?"

Ianto thought about it as he ate, until finally he shrugged. "A pub is a pub, I suppose. This one just had a hell of a view and a dozen different species of extraterrestrial life wandering about."

"And John Hart."

He rolled his eyes and didn't reply; he'd rather not think about John Hart, especially now that Jack was gone.

"Was he…" She trailed off at the look on his face. "Never mind. What are you going to do?"

He frowned, and even though he knew exactly what she was asking, he pretended ignorance. "About what?"

"The Doctor," she said, ignoring his attempt at deflection. "Time and space and Jack's death ending it all." Ianto concentrated on his food, but Tosh continued, setting hers down. "Ianto, the Doctor told us everything. And I know you talked to Gwen about it."

Ianto's head whipped up, and he set his carton down as well. "Then you know what I have to do."

"Can you?"

The two simple words cut deeply. It was the same question he'd been asking himself since before Gwen had come to see him, before his nightmarish dream. Could he let Jack die—and the universe as well? Yet how could he force Jack to live forever, to save the world again?

Letting his head fall to his knees, he whispered his answer. "I don't know, Tosh."

She didn't answer, idly rubbing her hand up and down his back. When he looked up, there were tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Feeling like the heel that he was for ignoring everyone else's pain but Jack's and his own, Ianto sat up straight and pulled her into a tight embrace. She sobbed onto his shoulder, but he had no more tears left, only silent support. Yet he felt better for offering it, and after several minutes, Tosh pulled away with a watery smile.

"Sorry," she said, wiping her sleeve across damp eyes. "You'd think we'd all be cried out by now."

"It takes a while," he murmured back. He knew from experience that the tears did not stop with death, did not ever stop in some cases.

"It's just that…" She took a long, slow breath to steady herself. "Jack saved me. He saved me from UNIT and gave me this job, where I've found my place, my meaning. I want to do something for him, to help him, but I don't know how."

Ianto let his head fall back a bit too hard against the drawers behind him. "You mean, is it better to save him from living forever and let him die, or do we save him from death but condemn him to eternal life?"

Her eyes widened. "Exactly! You know what I mean. Gwen doesn't understand why it's so difficult," she added softly.

"No, she doesn't. She never really understood Jack like we do," Ianto replied. "She was too busy placing him on a pedestal and then ripping it from underneath him."

That received a bitter laugh from her. "An interesting way to put it, but yes. She sees most things in very simple terms, which I think is one reason why Jack hired her, only…"

"…only the world isn't black and white, Tosh." Ianto let his eyes slip closed with a sigh. "You and I know that. We know what this means to Jack, almost as well as we know what it means for the universe."

They were quiet again and picked up their take away to eat in thoughtful silence, before Tosh set down her carton, leaned her head on his shoulder and placed her hand on his knee, then sighed.

"I don't know if I could do it either," she said, her voice so soft that he could barely hear her. Ianto kissed her forehead and smiled.

"Fat lot of good you are then. You only wanted an excuse to get away from the others, didn't you?"

He could feel her smile against his shoulder, the small nod of her head. "I did. It was getting intense upstairs."

"When is it not?" Ianto murmured.

"That's Torchwood," agreed Tosh.

"Bloody Torchwood."

They laughed together, finished their meal over stories of Jack's more outrageous stunts (unusually involving a death of some sort), and then Tosh gathered the cartons.

"You're leaving now?" asked Ianto, standing with her. "Just using me as a meal ticket?"

Tosh laid a hand to his cheek and shook her head. "Of course not. I wanted to see you, make sure you were all right."

He wasn't, yet her visit had brightened his mood considerably more than Gwen's had. He pulled Tosh toward him for another long embrace. "I will be," he told her, hoping it was true.

"I know," she replied as she stepped back. "Besides, I need to check on the Rift. It was starting to act funny just before I left. And someone else wants to talk to you too." She inclined her head to the back of the morgue. Ianto expected to see the Doctor, but to his surprise, Owen was standing there, watching them with his hands tucked into his pockets. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd already had one fairly serious conversation with the medic about Jack; a second seemed inevitable given the situation. Ianto had no idea what side of the fence Owen would fall on this time; how would Owen feel about Jack being granted rest when Owen had no idea when he would see his?

Ianto glanced back down at Tosh. His face must have betrayed some of his thoughts, because she laughed and shook her head. "He's not here to rant, rave, or take the piss, for once. Although I'm sure whatever he has to say will be as blunt as ever."

"Wouldn't be Owen if it wasn't," said Ianto.

"No, it wouldn't." She turned to leave, but stopped a few steps away. "Ianto, you know I'll support whatever decision you make, right?"

Ianto felt his heart catch at the unexpected loyalty in her statement. "You shouldn't, but thank you."

"Maybe not, but I do. Because this is not something I could ever do myself, Ianto. You can." She offered him a dazzling smile. "You're stronger than any of us."

He swallowed hard, unable to answer, and watched silently as she left. She nodded to Owen, who stood back until Ianto rolled his eyes and beckoned the doctor closer. He sat back down on the floor and Owen joined him. Ianto noticed the medic glancing at Jack and once again wondered what Owen would say. They sat without speaking for longer than Ianto had ever sat with Owen before.

"I can't believe I shot him," Owen finally began. "It was over a year ago, but sometimes I still can't believe I pulled the trigger."

Ianto did not respond right away; what was there to say? They had all betrayed Jack that day, but Owen had actually _killed_ him—shot him between the eyes with Jack's own Webley.

"We were manipulated," he replied once the awful image of Jack lying dead was tucked away where it belonged, buried beneath all the other equally horrifying things he had seen and done since joining Torchwood. "And he came back."

"Doesn't matter. I didn't know he had superpowers when I did it." Owen was staring off into space, his eyes full of pain and remorse. Only Gwen had known about Jack's ability, though Ianto had suspected _something_ was different about Jack. "I only knew he was holding us back from what we wanted—from who we loved."

"He forgave us," Ianto murmured softly, reluctantly remembering that terrible day. Why was Owen bringing it up now, when it was so long ago?

"Yes, he did." Owen seemed to focus, and Ianto felt the other man's attention turn to him. "It's one of the things I admired the most about Jack—his unconditional ability to forgive."

A curious look encouraged the doctor to continue. "I mean, we betrayed him—all of us, at the most basic level. We questioned him, we doubted him, we released a beast from the depths of hell that killed him, yet he still forgave us." Owen shook his head. "Sometimes I don't understand how he did it. And I don't know whether to be thankful or ashamed."

Ianto nodded; he understood that last, at least. "Be thankful, Owen. Jack wouldn't want any of us to be ashamed of our mistakes. He knows what it's like to bear a heavy burden."

"Yes, he did. He always had to make the hard decisions—especially when we fucked up."

"Do you think we fucked up this time?" Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to hold his temper in check.

Owen met his eyes. "Not yet."

"Right." Ianto blew out a breath and looked away; he didn't know how to respond. A cold hand on his arm brought his attention back to the doctor.

"It's really happening, Ianto. Whatever losing Jack has done to space and time, it's starting now, here, with the Rift." Owen sounded worried, more worried than skeptical for once. "The Doctor said he can feel it, and we're starting to pick up more and more strange readings. If the Rift starts to splinter, we're going to have another situation like we did with Bilis Manger and Abaddon on our hands, but we won't have Jack to fix it. We have to do it ourselves."

"So if we don't go back and change what's happening, everything's over?"

"Yes." Owen nodded and held Ianto's eyes. "Look, Ianto. Jack forgave us for betraying him, for opening the Rift, for releasing Abaddon. You know he'd forgive us for saving the universe."

"Even at the cost of his life?" Ianto asked.

"He'd offer it in a heartbeat. It's the entire universe, Ianto. We can't damn it all to hell just so Jack can have a bit of peace and quiet in the afterlife."

Ianto closed his eyes against the look on Owen's face: his usual smirk, but laced with a deep sympathy and even pity that Ianto did not want at that moment. Deep down he knew that Owen was right, that Gwen was right, and that Tosh would agree, but he hated it. He hated the bitter, burning irony of it, that here he was, Ianto Jones, trying to save the man he loved—yes, he loved Jack—from a fate _worse_ than death by letting him die, only to learn that that Jack's death meant the end of the universe.

Yet Ianto couldn't let Jack die, and he knew it, because Owen was also right in that Jack would not only offer himself without hesitation, but he would forgive them as well—even forgive Ianto. He would understand and accept it gladly if his life meant saving billions. It didn't make the situation any easier. Ianto did want Jack to have to go through that, to _have _to forgive them. He wanted Jack to be normal, because that's what Jack wanted, even if it meant death.

Torchwood was never about wants; Torchwood was about needs. Torchwood took and took and gave nothing back but pain and misery. It had taken Lisa and eight hundred of his coworkers. It had taken Susie and Owen (though it had also given them back, in the twisted way only Torchwood could.) It had taken Jack from them, but now it would take everything from Jack.

Ianto leapt to his feet and kicked at the doors behind him, cursing as he pounded out his fear and frustration and began to accept what he had to do, not what he wanted to do. Owen jumped up and stepped away; Ianto could feel the doctor's eyes on him, and once again hated it, hated Owen seeing him like this, hated it all. And every thought, every miserable feeling made it worse, until…

"Fuck!" He slammed his injured hand into the vault and pulled it back as pain radiated through his wound. He shook it out and immediately felt blood pooling in his palm. He stopped and stared at it, eyes wide and breathing unsteady, unable to speak or move or do anything until Owen took his hand, exactly as he had earlier when Ianto had confronted the Doctor.

"Come on, mate. You've probably broken your stitches. Let's fix you up."

"Owen, I—" Ianto shook his head. "I don't know what to do."

They didn't move. Owen let Ianto's hand go and tucked his own under his arms. "Are you sure about that?"

"No." He met Owen's eyes. "I know what to do, deep down. I just don't know if I can."

Owen glanced down at the floor, clearly gathering his thoughts before he looked up again. "Do you remember what I said to you the first time we opened the Rift, to get Jack and Tosh back?"

Blowing out a bitter breath, Ianto nodded. "Of course I do. I shot you."

"And you're still a wanker for that," Owen replied. "I know I said some horrible things, and…well, I'm sorry. I don't think I ever apologized for that."

Ianto shrugged. "All right. I'm sorry I shot you."

"No you're not."

Ianto let his lips pull into a small grin. "No, not always. I was trying to stop you. I knew it was dangerous. Wrong." He paused. "Owen, that was a year ago. Why do you keep bringing it up?"

"Keep your shirt on," Owen said. "I do have a point. But I have a question first. Would you shoot me if I went back in time with the Doctor to save Jack?"

Ianto sucked in a breath, wondering if that was what it would come to: Ianto taking the coward's road and refusing only to see another step up in his place. "No." It was the honest truth: he wouldn't shoot Owen, but he'd be desperately disappointed in himself.

"Exactly." Owen looked pleased, but Ianto frowned.

"All right…but what's the point?"

"You wouldn't shoot me because you know it's the _right _thing to do this time. I can't do it, though. It has to be you because you're not…" Owen actually looked embarrassed. "You're not a part-time shag, all right? I'm sorry I said that, because I know it's not true."

"What are you talking about?"

Owen put a hand on Ianto's shoulder. "It should be someone who cares about him. We all care about Jack, but not like you. And you know what? He cares about you, too. In the same way."

"It's not like that—" Ianto started, but Owen cut him off.

"Yes, it is, Ianto." He waited until Ianto closed his mouth to continue. "I thought it was only a bit of shagging, but it's not. It's more, which is why you should be the one to do this."

"I wouldn't be saving him," Ianto whispered. "I'd be dooming him."

Owen snorted. "Doom? Jesus, Ianto, who talks like that? Look, I know the guilt is probably tearing you apart—"

"You think?"

"—but I don't think you've realized something." Owen paused and waited for Ianto to give him his full attention before continuing. "We're not going to remember any of this."

"Oh." Ianto let his head fall to his chest. "I didn't think of that."

"Of course you didn't, you've got other things on your mind. I, on the other hand, have been babysitting a Time Lord upstairs." He paused, glanced at Jack, and shook his head. "Don't know what Jack sees in him, the man's a nutter, but he's been babbling at Tosh for hours."

"If we change time, this timeline will simply disappear, won't it?"

"Instantly for us, but for anyone close to the epicenter of the time shift, it will take a bit longer." Owen snorted. "Jack's Doctor called it temporal fading. It doesn't sound pleasant."

Ianto was quiet for a moment as he tried to process it. Owen took that opportunity to hitch his head over his shoulder toward the exit. "Come on, let me look at your hand. I can't feel mine, but I'm sure yours hurts like a bitch right now."

With a glance back at Jack, Ianto nodded and followed him upstairs. Owen continued to talk quietly.

"I wanted to be the one to talk to you about this. I know you don't want to betray him again, you don't want to hurt him." A pause was answered by silence, and Owen continued. "But when it comes down to it, you won't remember it and he'll never know. And even if he did, he would still forgive you."

"Now who's the wanker?" Ianto muttered. He once again resented the fact that Owen was right.

"Oh, it gets better." They came up to the Hub, but the others were nowhere to be seen. "They're in the conference room," Owen said, as if reading Ianto's mind and answering his question before Ianto could ask it.

"Talking about me?" Ianto suggested, unable to keep the sarcasm from leaking through.

"That or listening to that damn Doctor prattle on about universe-ending holes in the space-time continuum." He led Ianto to the medical bay, motioned to the metal table, and began working on Ianto's hand. "All right, you didn't break the stitches, but it's still split again. This might hurt, but not like temporal fading will."

"What?" asked Ianto, caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject.

"It's painful. You'll be at the center of the time shift with Jack and your other self, so at first you _will_ remember this timeline. But as time rearranges itself, you'll begin to fade into…well, into nothingness, I guess. And your other self will carry on none the wiser." Owen was making a point of not looking Ianto in the face.

"That doesn't sound too bad," Ianto offered, clearly lying through his teeth. Owen laughed, short and curt.

"Better you than me, mate," he said. He was still bent over Ianto's hand, rewrapping it with a clean bandage. "I don't fancy falling apart proton by proton. Half dead but solid is fine with me."

"Right. Thanks for that image." Ianto closed his eyes and sighed. So he would ruin Jack's life, suffer indescribable pain, but bully for them both, because the universe would be saved and no one would be the wiser.

Owen secured the bandage and stepped back. "Just telling it like it is. But someone's got to do it, and not because Gwen is desperate to get Jack back and Tosh is upset about punishing him again, but because it's the right thing to do. It's the only thing we can do. And it should be you, because you're the only one he would want to do it. He trusted you."

Jack trusted him…and now Ianto would betray that trust again. Jack had trusted him with his life _and _with his death, and now Ianto would take both away. Because he had to, because the world—the universe—demanded it again. Demanded it of Jack, of Ianto, of Torchwood. And yet again they would sacrifice it all for the greater good.

Ianto stood. He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and nodded his resolve, already regretting his decision even though he knew it was the only one he could make.

"Let's go see the Doctor, then. It's time to save the universe."

As if to punctuate his decision, the Hub lights dimmed as the ground shook beneath them, followed by the incessant blaring of the Rift alarm. Time really was ending, and it was up to Ianto to stop it.

* * *

Author's Note:

Thank you to Tamaar once again for betaing this chapter and listening to my issues with it. Namely, the roles that Tosh and Owen played: I had originally intended for it to be the other way at first, but this way worked out better. Sometimes Owen really steps up and you just have to love him.

A word of warning: don't let the start of the next chapter stop you from reading on. It's supposed to be that way. You'll figure it out soon enough. It's going to get really fun now. And longer - six more chapters to enjoy (I hope!) Thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

XV. _When Time is spent, Eternity begins. ~Helen Hunt Jackson_

The night was cold and damp, typical for winter in Cardiff, but generally a bad night to be out, and a much better night to be inside. To watch a movie, lie by the fire, or curl up with tangled limbs in bed. Instead, Jack was running down a pack of alien hellhounds through Bute Park, swearing under his breath as he pounded through the dark. Gwen and Owen had gone after a lone runner, while he and Ianto continued after the other two creatures, turning left and sprinting across the frost-covered grass. They crashed through a copse of trees and burst into a clearing, where they stopped in their tracks, the wrong end of a strange gun pointed straight at them.

"Bloody hell," Jack swore, falling forward as he tried to stop himself from slipping in the wet grass. Ianto ran up behind him and somehow managed to catch them both.

"Nice to see you too, Jack—what is it now?" The voice behind the gun was gruff yet cultured, bitterness and sarcasm clear in the deep baritone. "Harkness, right?"

"Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood," replied Jack. He recognized that voice, remembered it from his past. It shouldn't be here, _he_ shouldn't be here…

The man with the gun stepped out from the shadows of a nearby pine. He was tall, yet his formerly muscular frame was now thin and gaunt; his once handsome face was worn down with years, and there was a wild look about his piercing green eyes that Jack immediately suspected hid more than the deep resentment obvious in the man's words. He appeared surprised, even scared.

"Ah, Torchwood." The man nodded, sounding both angry and amused at the same time, then glanced at Ianto, his expression hateful and wary. "That's right, you're in charge now, aren't you?"

"I am," said Jack, his lip curling in disgust at the man's appearance and attitude. It reminded him of the night John Hart had showed up last spring, only this was worse: Parker Douglas clearly hated Jack with every fiber of his being. "What are you doing here?"

"What, no hug, no handshake—not even a punch in the face?" Douglas asked, his crooked grin more of a sneer.

"Jack?" asked Ianto, stepping calmly to his right side and eyeing the man before them. "Would you like me to punch him in the face?" Douglas's eyes widened almost imperceptibly at Ianto's threat, and the man's hand tightened around his gun.

"Not yet," said Jack, trying to figure out what was going on. "What are you doing here, Parker? Last I heard, you were in prison on Volag-Noc." _In the fifty-first century,_he added to himself. That had been before Jack had met the Doctor, of course, but who knew how much time had passed for Douglas? He looked twice Jack's age now.

"All because of you," the man hissed, though Jack wasn't sure whether Douglas was looking at him or Ianto. He felt Ianto gazing at him curiously, no doubt already turning over the man's response. "Have you ever been there, Jack? It's a horrible place…dark, cold…a frozen hellhole in the middle of outer space."

"I've been there," Jack stated simply. He knew perfectly well what it was like, even though he'd never been a prisoner there. He had endured his own personal hells over the years, however, and had little sympathy for the man standing before him, radiating resentment. Parker Douglas had gone to prison to pay for his crimes; Jack had done penance for his own and owed Douglas nothing.

"Twenty-five years, Jack," Parker said, green eyes blazing with fury. "Twenty-five years does things to a man, you know."

Jack's face hardened. "Try several hundred, sometime."

Douglas rolled his eyes and waved his gun around somewhat carelessly. Jack didn't recognize the weapon and knew he could not be too cavalier given Parker's history and current demeanor. "There you go again, Jack, always blustering in with a bigger, better story. Well, the universe won't have to worry about that much longer."

"Why, are you here for some sort of revenge?" Jack asked. Jack might have laughed in the man's face if not for the seriousness of the situation. How many enemies from his past would keep finding him, keep coming back for revenge? When would it ever end?

"Actually, that _is_ why I'm here," said Douglas, pretending exaggerated surprise at Jack's deduction.

"You went to prison for a crime you, and only you, committed," Jack pointed out. "Not my problem."

"Oh, but it is your problem, Jack," replied Douglas, "or it will be soon."

"Well, you can't kill me," said Jack with a cavalier shrug, unable to keep all his bravado in check; Douglas didn't need to know that Jack meant it literally. "And I won't let you kill anyone else. Been there, done that—not letting it happen."

"I don't need to kill anyone else, Jack. I _can_ kill you." His gaze flickered toward Ianto again. The zealous light in Parker's eyes almost worried Jack, because this man believed what he said. He believed it was possible even though it wasn't, and Jack knew from experience that the power of belief gave men the ability to do unspeakable, almost impossible things at times.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but Ianto stepped closer at that moment, shooting him a warning glance that spoke volumes without saying a word: _Don't antagonize. Find out more_. Parker Douglas positively glared at Ianto.

"I don't like to die," Jack said casually, crossing his arms over his chest. "And my team wouldn't like it either. So how do you plan on pulling it off?"

"I was a Time Agent, Jack," Douglas replied expansively, waving his left arm and clearly showing them the vortex manipulator strapped to it. Where he had acquired it, Jack had no idea; Parker's own wrist strap had been confiscated when he had been sentenced to prison on Volag-Noc, and he should not have been given a new one upon his release considering his past actions.

"I know things about time—how it works, how to manipulate it, how to change it." He watched Jack closely, a manic light gleaming in his eyes. "And I know what it's done to you, Jack."

"It's against regulations to manipulate the timestream for personal motives," Jack quoted automatically, Time Agent training drummed into him a lifetime ago returning automatically. He tried to ignore the prickle at the nape of his neck the man's other words stirred: _I know what it's done to you._ Very few people knew, and there was no way Parker Douglas could be one of them, not when he had spent years in prison, far in the future. "Orders only. Besides, trying to change time is what got you arrested and shipped to Volag-Noc. Are you under orders to kill me?"

"Oh no, once again it's quite personal," the man replied with a soft laugh. Beside Jack, Ianto tensed at Douglas's glib answer. 'Again?' he mouthed. Parker Douglas continued. "Besides, the Time Agency is gone, officially disbanded. There are only five of them left now. And no one is going to care about the death of a rogue Time Agent three thousand years in the past."

"Last I heard there were seven left." Of course, that had been from John Hart, and at that time for John it might well have been true. Time Agents did not always follow a linear timeline.

"Yes, well." Parker shrugged and fingered the wrist strap on his arm, the meaning clear. So that was how he had come by it, and how he had traveled back from the 51st century. "Things happen. Soon there will be even fewer, no doubt."

"Not if I can help it," Jack said, grinning suddenly to distract the other man. His hand moved to his waist for his Webley, reflexes honed after years of similar confrontations. He instinctively knew Ianto was reaching for his own weapon as well. "Drop—"

Parker stepped back, turned slightly, and shot Ianto in the hand before Jack had even finished speaking.

"Drop yours first," he hissed. "This won't be as fun if I have to waste another bullet on your mortal friend here."

Jack frowned at the use of the word mortal. Waste a shot? Beside him, Ianto had doubled over, right hand clutched to his chest. He immediately began to undo his tie, wrapping it around his injured hand, jaw tight as he stood straighter to face their attacker. "Something's not right, Jack," he murmured. "He knows something."

Jack hesitated, and the other man waved at the Webley. With a growl of frustration, Jack lowered his weapon, unwilling to take any more chances with Ianto's life. Douglas gestured for the gun, Jack handed it over reluctantly, and the former Time Agent tossed it behind him into the bushes with a manic grin. Then he held open his other hand for Ianto's gun and tossed that weapon away as well, a smug look on his face. Ianto glared at him the entire time, grimacing in pain; Jack wondered how badly Ianto's hand was injured.

"Good boy, Jack. Nice to know you can do what you're told now, even if you were a self-righteous son of a bitch at the Time Agency."

"I was following orders," Jack snapped.

"Ah, but see—you had a reputation as a maverick, Jack," said Parker. "Everyone knew you didn't _always_ follow orders. In fact, I know you lost two years of your life for it."

Jack blanched, and beside him he heard Ianto inhale sharply through his nose. "That has nothing to do with this."

"How do you know?" Parker leaned close and whispered almost seductively. "You don't remember."

Jack clenched his teeth as he thought about rushing the man, but Douglas still had a strange weapon trained on them and quick reflexes in spite of his age and imprisonment. Jack forced himself to relax, to check instincts that might make the situation worse.

"I was following orders," Jack ground out again. "What you chose to do after that is on your conscience."

"Because you don't have one, do you, Jack? Because you couldn't have just ignored those orders? You couldn't have played the maverick one more time and refused?"

"It was the right thing to do," Jack said simply, and Parker's face colored as he gave into his fury over what had happened so long ago for them both.

"She was my wife," he hissed, and he struck the butt end of the gun against Jack's temple, sending him to his knees as blood began to run down his cheek. Douglas pointed the weapon at Ianto again, motioning at him to do the same. "On the ground with him, hands behind your head. You know how it works."

"You said you weren't going to waste another shot on him," said Jack as he straightened and looked up into Parker's crazed eyes. He tapped the comm in his ear as he raised his hands, hoping that Gwen and Owen weren't too far away and would pick up on what was happening. "He has nothing to do with this. It's between you and me."

"I know. I'm not going to kill him." Douglas grinned ferally and stepped forward to run the barrel of the gun down the side of Ianto's face before turning toward Jack. "Someone should bear witness to your death, after all. One of your _team._" Ianto glanced sideways at Jack, an unasked question in his eyes. Jack shook his head in return; better to let Parker shoot him and believe him dead than to risk worse. Parker was once again eyeing Ianto with a look Jack didn't trust; something was not right with the situation, but Jack couldn't put his finger on it.

"Now, I would apologize," said Parker, stepping back with a flourish and pointing the gun directly at Jack's chest. "But you deserve this, Jack, more than anyone in all of history. So instead, I shall wish you a long and painful death, with the hope that you rot in hell for the rest of eternity."

Jack refused to close his eyes as Parker Douglas pulled the trigger, but he never felt the shot. Instead, he was bowled over from the left by a body appearing from almost nowhere, slamming him to the grass while the bullet flew harmlessly through the air above them. He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs, and heard Parker Douglas swear violently.

"No!" Douglas shouted. "Not you again!"

The sound of several more shots reached his ears, followed by the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the ground.

Turning toward the face above him, Jack found himself staring into the bright blue eyes of Ianto Jones. And yet, Ianto had been on his right side, how could he have come barreling out of the darkness on Jack's left? Twisting his head, he saw Ianto still kneeling exactly where he had been moments earlier, the gun from his ankle holster in his left hand and a look of shock on his face as he stared at Jack. Jack turned to the man above him and raised an eyebrow.

"Shit," said the Ianto on top of him.

"What's going on?" Jack spoke with a casual yet direct pitch to his words, but neither Ianto answered him. Instead a familiar voice sounded from nearby.

"Nothing to worry about Jack," said the Doctor. Jack craned his neck again and watched as the Ianto kneeling next to him—his Ianto—fell over, unconscious. The Doctor turned toward the edge of the clearing and pointed at something with a familiar tool in his hands, before turning back to Jack. He looked almost desperately sad as he gazed down at Ianto's still form, then met Jack's eyes. "Just saving the universe again."

Jack glanced from the Doctor to where the other Ianto hadn't moved from where he was laying on top of him. Though this Ianto appeared exactly the same as the Ianto who had just been running through the woods, he was dressed differently and appeared exhausted. He also had a large wrap on his right hand where the Ianto currently unconscious next to them had just been shot. There was an infinite amount of pain and sadness in the man's eyes, something that Jack had not seen since the night Lisa had died.

"Ianto?" he asked, and the sound of Jack's voice seemed to have broken some sort of spell, because suddenly this other Ianto leaned forward and kissed him hard, passion and heartbreak flowing from him in waves. Jack gasped into the kiss and returned it as best as he could; something had obviously happened to this Ianto that warranted it, though Jack wasn't quite sure what it was…or if he would ever know.

Ianto pulled back, breathless as he rested his forehead on Jack's.

"There isn't much time, Ianto," said the Doctor softly, and Jack watched as Ianto's eyes fluttered closed.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Ianto murmured, lips ghosting across Jack's as he spoke. "I am so sorry, you have no idea. Please forgive me."

"For what?" asked Jack, thoroughly confused. Another look of pain flashed across Ianto's face.

"Ianto," the Doctor warned.

"You said I could say goodbye!" Ianto snapped, then hung his head. "Please don't hate me," he whispered. "I had no choice."

"Ianto, don't," Jack murmured, reaching out for Ianto's face as blue eyes looked away. "I could never hate you."

"You might some day," Ianto said, shaking his head as the Doctor called his name again. He appeared to choke back a sob as his hand came up and caressed Jack's cheek with such desperate intimacy that Jack felt his own tears catch in his throat.

"You should know that I…" Ianto's voice was husky; he stopped and took a deep breath as if to steady himself. "Just remember that I tried to save you, Jack. I'm sorry. I cared enough to let you go, but the universe wouldn't let me."

He stood after one final chaste kiss and began to walk away, murmuring about Parker Douglas's enigmatic final words. Jack turned and watched him leave, knowing he would never see this broken man again. From the corner of his eye, he was aware of the Doctor and the sonic screwdriver he raised toward Jack. The last thing that Jack saw before he succumbed to unconsciousness was the sight of a large blue police box materializing nearby and an older man in a long blue coat stepping out into the clearing.

And the last thing that Jack heard was the Doctor exclaiming from somewhere beside him, "What the hell is _he_ doing here?"

* * *

Author's Notes

Yay, cliff hanger! I have really been looking forward to posting this chapter and can't wait to know what you think. I am even more excited to post the next chapter. Things are happening! Yay!

So many thanks to my amazingly awesome beta Tamaar, who helped line everything up between this chapter and the first, and made me ditch the chloroform in favor of the sonic screwdriver. And she once again endured a painful number of panicky, plotty emails that are only rewarded by more panicky, plotty emails with pictures of JB and GDL. You've challenged me and I hope I've met the challenge!

And I hope, dear readers, you enjoyed the chapter. Because I'm grinning the big "I know what's next haha!" author grin. Thank you for reading!


	16. Chapter Sixteen

XVI. _Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them. ~Dion Boucicault_

Ianto stepped out of the Tardis as quickly as he could, ignoring the Doctor calling out behind him to wait. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it and be done. At least he knew he wouldn't have to live with it. Once he set the universe right, his timeline would cease to exist, and he would fade as well. He tried not to think about what that would be like, what it would feel like to disintegrate atom by atom; he simply clung to the saving grace of his impending nonexistence because it was the only way he could do what he had to do.

He had not wanted to do it, had fought so hard to let Jack go, but in the end, Owen had finally changed Ianto's mind with ruthless pragmatism tempered with support and understanding. Ianto had left the medical bay and found the others standing around Tosh and watching the computer monitors as the Rift began to shift and splinter. Seeing the tangible proof before him—feeling it beneath his feet as the ground had rumbled—had convinced him as much as anything, and he had told them he would do it even as the words had stuck in his throat. Gwen had tried to hug him, but Tosh had been closer and had thrown her arms around him first. Tahlia had simply nodded in understanding. The Doctor, damn him, had grinned before covering it with a cough.

After a quick briefing and even quicker but heartbreaking goodbyes, they had set off, the Doctor's strange ship taking them back to the night Parker Douglas had shot Jack in the forest. Ianto had been so distracted by what he was about to do that he had not been interested whatsoever in the Tardis, even though he knew he should, given how few people had the opportunity to travel in it. Yet all he could do was sit and think and stare at his hands, turning over exactly what he had to do when they arrived back in Bute Park. It seemed straightforward enough: stop Parker Douglas from shooting Jack, because it was the only way to prevent the parasites from entering his body and feeding on the energy of the time vortex inside of Jack and thus killing him.

Ianto had glanced at the Doctor only once, when they had landed. He had made one demand, that the Doctor let him say goodbye. He was going to his death, after all, even if another version of him lived on in the restored timeline. For him, he had already lost Jack and would be losing him again. Ianto needed a moment with Jack, had demanded and pleaded for it until the Doctor had granted him his request.

They had landed in the trees surrounding the clearing where Jack had been shot, and Ianto had left the Tardis immediately. As soon as he opened the door he picked up voices ahead: Parker Douglas, taunting Jack. He started running, crashing through the trees much as he had four nights before when he had been chasing the hellhounds at Jack's side. He reached the clearing quickly and saw both his past self and Jack kneeling before Douglas. The gun came up and Douglas wished Jack an eternity of hell…

Ianto threw himself at Jack; it was pure instinct—all he could think of, all he had time for. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, and the bullet from Douglas's vortex gun whizzed through the air above them. Ianto heard Parker Douglas swear violently and shout, "No, not you again!" before the sound of gunfire reached his ears, followed by the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the ground nearby. Ianto knew that his past self had shot and hit Parker Douglas, because he had already tried it. Douglas had escaped before, but this time he was obviously too stunned to do anything but stare at the unexpected man throwing himself at Jack from nowhere and ruining his plans. Ianto wondered at Douglas's strange words.

Glancing down at the man beneath him, Ianto found himself gazing into Jack's wide eyes. Jack, alive and not dead and staring back at him in shock…

"Shit." Ianto swore again. He was supposed to have done this without anyone knowing, and yet both Jack and his past self were watching him warily.

"What's going on?" asked Jack in that casual yet commanding way he had, but Ianto couldn't answer; he didn't know what to say. Instead, the Doctor answered for him.

"Nothing to worry about, Jack," said the Doctor, stepping up behind Ianto's past self. The Doctor held out a strange looking tool, and Ianto's past self collapsed, unconscious. He raised it and pointed it at something near the edge of the clearing as well before turning to Jack with a look of indescribable regret. "Just saving the universe again."

Jack glanced from the Doctor to Ianto, who hadn't moved from above him. "Ianto?" he asked, and, as if the sound of Jack's voice had broken some sort of spell, Ianto leaned forward and kissed Jack hard, all the love and heartbreak he felt at that moment flowing into the kiss. Jack was alive and unhurt, and they had most likely saved the universe from tearing itself apart, but at what cost? Jack could have died a mortal death, moved on from the curse that kept him chained to never ending life, yet Ianto had just sentenced him to an eternity of immortality once more.

Ianto pulled away, breathless as he rested his forehead on Jack's, unwilling to let go so soon after losing him.

"There isn't much time, Ianto," said the Doctor softly, and Ianto couldn't help but let his eyes close, unable to bear it much longer.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Ianto murmured, lips ghosting across Jack's as he spoke his last words to Jack. It was strange, knowing _he _was going to die, yet his past self would live, so Jack wouldn't be alone, not really. Knowing that didn't make it any easier to give it up, though, not after thinking he had lost Jack. "I'm so sorry, you have no idea. Please forgive me."

"For what?" asked Jack, obviously confused by Ianto's enigmatic apology. Ianto felt the guilt stab him in the heart, a literal clenching in his chest that forced him to take a deep breath.

"Ianto," the Doctor warned.

"You said I could say goodbye!" Ianto snapped at the Doctor before his head fell to his chest and his voice dropped. "Please don't hate me, Jack. I had no choice."

"Ianto, don't," said Jack, reaching out for Ianto's face as Ianto looked away. "I could never hate you."

"You might some day," said Ianto, shaking his head as the Doctor called his name again. He bit back a sob before he brought his hand up and caressed Jack's cheek for what he knew would be the last time.

"You should know that I…" Ianto started, then stopped and took another deep breath. "Just remember that I tried to save you, Jack. I'm sorry. I cared enough to let you go, but the universe wouldn't let me."

He gave Jack one final kiss before he stood and walked away, shoulders bowed, Parker Douglas's strange last words turning over in his mind. He was walking to his death, he knew that, but he still glanced back at Jack, wishing he could stay there, yet knowing his time was over. He watched stoically as the Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver again and Jack fell to the ground, unconscious. Before Ianto could say anything, the Doctor's eyes widened in surprise.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?"

Ianto followed the Time Lord's gaze across the clearing, where a second blue police box had materialized. They exchanged a shocked look as an older man stepped out of the box. He was dressed in a dark blue trousers with a long coat lined in red, a high-buttoned waistcoat, and brogue boots. There was something familiar about him, though Ianto couldn't put his finger on it.

"Ah," said the other man, nodding as he took in the scene before him. "I seem to have arrived at precisely the right time. Surprisingly enough." He strode up to Ianto and cocked his head. "Mr. Jones, if I recall."

Ianto nodded slowly in response, unable to speak.

"Then if you would please come with me, there is someplace we must go," the man said, completely ignoring the Doctor. Ianto turned to find the Doctor gaping at the older man, his mouth moving to form words but failing until he managed to stutter out a question.

"What are you _doing_ here?"

The older man turned slowly and stared at the Doctor until the Doctor looked away.

"No," said the Doctor, hand curling into his hair and leaving it standing on end. "No no no."

"Knew you weren't as thick you looked," the other man murmured. Because Ianto didn't understand a word of what had passed—and not passed—between the two men, he turned to the Doctor.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

The Doctor sighed heavily, as if a sudden weight was pressing down on his shoulders. Perhaps he was feeling the guilt of what they had done to Jack. Ianto did not care what the Doctor was experiencing; he needed to know what was going on with this stranger who demanded he go with him. He didn't have long to live, after all; he was starting to feel odd, as if he weren't really there.

"Tell me," he growled, stepping closer to the Doctor. Having been on the receiving end of Ianto's fist once already, the Doctor took another deep breath and answered.

"It's all right. He's safe." He paused and shrugged his shoulders. "I think."

"You think?" exclaimed Ianto. "What do you mean, you think he's safe? Who is he?"

"He's me," the Doctor said, meeting the other man's eyes; they shared a forced smile laced with a strange tension. Ianto whirled on the older man.

"What?" he gasped. The man in the long dark suit and Doc Martins raised his eyebrows.

"It's true," he offered. Even his accent was different. "Regeneration and all that."

"You change faces," Ianto stated, remembering what Jack had once told him about the Time Lord's unique ability to live for hundreds of years. He wasn't immortal like Jack—the Doctor's life would eventually come to an end—yet Ianto knew that Jack was drawn to the Doctor not only because he was a remarkable man, but because he was quite possibly the only other being in the universe who could even begin to understand what Jack's long life was truly like.

"And I'm offering you a unique opportunity," said the other Doctor, the older looking one. Ianto sensed his Doctor—now that was ironic, considering until that very moment he had always been 'Jack's Doctor' in Ianto's mind, and that with the accompanying twinge of resentment he'd never been rid of—step up beside him.

"What do you mean?" the Doctor asked suspiciously. "He's from another timeline. We negated it when we saved Jack."

The older Doctor raised his chin in the air. "Of course he can't go back, that timeline no longer exists."

"I thought my existence here would fade as time reverts back to this point, that I would be absorbed into the timestream and my past self would have no memory of anything." He paused and repressed an unexpected shudder. "I heard it was painful."

"All true. But I can help you," said the older Doctor with a twitch of an eyebrow and the hint of a smile. The younger Doctor shook his head.

"No, no you can't. It's not possible."

"You should know by now, _Doctor_, that just about anything is possible." He pierced them both with shrewd eyes. "Look at Jack. He's always been an impossible thing, yet there he is, and now the continued existence of the universe as we know it rests on his shoulders." The sharp blue eyes softened. "Poor bastard."

Ianto glanced away before he grew angry. He knew how much the Doctor's words had once hurt Jack; he knew how much immortality cost Jack. And because of the Doctor, Ianto had been the one to condemn Jack to it once more, when he could have saved him, even if it meant losing him. Ianto was going to die anyway, what would it have mattered if he'd stayed in his own timeline and died with the rest of the team? At least he wouldn't be stuck with two versions of the Time Lord who had caused this.

But then the entire universe would have torn itself apart. He'd had no choice, not in the end, and that was what hurt the most.

"Mr. Jones," called the older Doctor as Ianto walked away from the madness. He wanted it to be over. He had agreed to this knowing that he wouldn't remember it, wouldn't even survive it, because he could not live with the guilt of what he had done to the one man in the universe who should not have to bear such a burden.

Without warning, he felt a sharp tug in his gut, and Ianto stumbled, falling to his knees and retching. Was this it, then? Was he finally fading? Or was the guilt literally eating him from the inside, clawing its way out through vomit and tears? Ianto wiped his eyes, and another spasm sent him to his back, biting his lip to hold back the groans.

Both Doctors were immediately beside him, one watching him with sad brown eyes, the other with determined blue.

"Mr. Jones," said the older Doctor. "I can help you."

Ianto shook his head as another spasm racked his body, and he curled in upon himself. This was not what he had expected, but then, he probably should have. His existence was slowly disintegrating, fading back into the substance of the universe; of course it would be uniquely painful. The Doctor hadn't mentioned how much it would hurt, but perhaps for a man who grew a new body every time his failed, pain was a relative thing.

"Mr. Jones," said the Doctor, voice so different than the other. "Look at me. Ianto."

Ianto forced himself to gaze into infinitely deep eyes that felt as if they were searching his soul for something Ianto wasn't sure he could give.

"Let me help you," said the older Doctor. Ianto didn't know how to answer. Another wave of pain rolled through him, and he felt himself convulsing on the ground, the two other men holding down his arms and head so that he didn't injure himself. Which was rich, considering that he was dying.

"No," he ground out when it stopped. He felt lighter, somehow, as if a part of him had faded away already. He wondered if he held up his hand, would he be transparent, literally drifting away like a ghost? It didn't matter. He wasn't going to live; he had to die, in order to preserve the timeline. It might be the coward's way out, but he would accept the pain as penance for his sins and endure the agony until it was all over.

"I know you think you condemned him, Mr. Jones," said the older Doctor, his voice softer somehow. His eyes were piercing, intense, hypnotic. Ianto was far more frightened of this Doctor than the younger, foppy-haired one. This Doctor had even more years of pain and heartbreak written across his face. And yet this Doctor was also showing an incongruous compassion that unsettled Ianto as much as his intensity.

"I did," Ianto managed. "I condemned him to hell after he'd had a glimpse of heaven." Not exactly true, and borrowed from Owen, but poetic nonetheless.

"You saved the universe," said the Doctor. "And you can save Jack, as well."

Ianto's eyes flew open. Save Jack? He'd tried to save Jack already, in the one way that actually mattered, and he had failed. He felt his anger rise, that this man would tease and tempt him, and tried to sit up. "No," said Ianto, this time shaking his head. "I'm not doing anything else for you. I've done my deed, committed my sin." He pushed the man away, the simple act taking all his strength. "Let me go in peace." He collapsed to his side, biting his lip until it bled as another convulsion ripped through him.

"That was the wrong answer, Mr. Jones," snapped the older version of the Doctor, and he somehow scooped up Ianto in a firemen's hold as if Ianto were no heavier than a child. Perhaps he wasn't; perhaps there was less of him to carry as he faded. Another spasm stopped him thinking about it as the older Doctor strode purposefully toward the second Tardis that had materialized not far away. The younger Doctor followed behind them.

"What are you doing?" Ianto's Doctor hissed. "You can't just run off with him!"

"I can and I will," said the Doctor in blue. He stopped at the door to the Tardis and turned toward his other self. Ianto could barely follow the conversation through the pain, even though it was clearly about him.

"He didn't ask for this!" the younger man exclaimed. "He's out of his mind with pain, you know what temporal fading does to a man. You can't do this to him."

"No," said the older Doctor. "We can't do this to Jack. We've put him through hell too many times to ever be absolved of our sins, but if we can do this one thing for him, then we will."

Ianto tried to lift his head and speak, but he was too weak, too confused, probably too far gone. Yet it struck him as odd that this Doctor spoke in the plural, while the younger one did not. And this older Doctor spoke of Jack with a clear ring of regret in his voice, as if he was all too cognizant of the scope of Jack's pain and suffering and wanted to make right the way he had treated Jack for so many years. But most importantly, if this Doctor thought he could save Ianto from fading back into the timestream, perhaps he could help Jack as well. Perhaps this Doctor could release Jack from his immortality.

"Help Jack," Ianto murmured, but it was all he could manage. Pain choked out anything else but a visceral scream that had the man holding him swearing virulently. It seemed out of character, at least for Ianto's Doctor; Ianto could imagine the younger man looking scandalized for some reason.

"We have to save them."

"You don't know the consequences!" the younger Doctor called after them.

"I know they've sacrificed enough." With those final words, Ianto found himself in another Tardis as he lost consciousness. He didn't know what he was doing there or what would happen to him now, but he didn't really care as the atoms that made up his being broke apart with another gut-wrenching scream, and time claimed his heart and soul.

* * *

Author's Notes:

The End.

Just kidding! Quite a bit more to go, because this is just too much fun. Thank you so much to Tamaar for once again helping iron out the temporal twists here, there, and everywhere. There have been times when I didn't think this story was going to work like we wanted, but she is an awesome beta and it's coming together! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it might be one of my favorites. Thank you for reading!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

XVII. _Time eases all things. ~Sophocles_

Jack slowly returned to consciousness and opened his eyes to darkness, the only sound that of a quiet, off-key humming. Confused, he struggled to place it before he recognized the tune, a ballad about lovers bound for eternity; it was an old story by his time but not known in this century. When he identified the voice, confusion was replaced by a groan as it all came back to him in one painful rush: the forest, Parker Douglas, Ianto, the Doctor.

The Tardis…another Doctor?

With a second groan, Jack forced himself to sit up, the frost from the grass having soaked through his clothing, and shook his head in denial even as he shivered from the cold. He did not look for Douglas, or the Doctor, or even the Tardis; instead he turned and found Ianto, who was lying in the grass beside him. Crawling over to the unconscious man, Jack checked Ianto's breathing and pulse and was relieved to find both were strong. Ianto appeared fine, aside from the gunshot wound to his hand, still wrapped in his tie.

Which brought Owen to mind. "Gwen? Owen?" Jack asked, tapping his earpiece. There was no answer, and he swore under his breath, hoping Douglas had not got to them.

"They're fine," said a voice nearby. The Doctor strode out from under a tree with his hands in his pockets and a bland look on his face. "Just napping over there." A nod of his head indicated two prone forms in the grass at the edge of the clearing. Jack took a deep breath to control his anger.

"You drugged us," he said.

"I did not," said the Doctor, hands up in defense. "I knocked you out."

Jack frowned until it came to him. "Sonic screwdriver?"

"Sonic screwdriver."

Jack stood and faced the Doctor. "So you knocked us out. Care to tell me why?"

"Oh, the usual," replied the Doctor, glancing away with the expression he reserved for his unsuccessful attempts to appear innocent. "Wibbly wobbly timey whimey stuff."

Jack wanted to grab the Doctor by the front of his coat and shake him. This was his team the Doctor was playing with, and if it was one thing Jack hated, it was someone—anyone—messing with his team.

"There was someone with you," said Jack. The Doctor nodded. "It was Ianto." This time the other man offered a shrug, and Jack bit back a frustrated growl. "Past or future?" It was fairly obvious from the bandage on the other Ianto's hand that he had been from the not-so-distant future, but Jack didn't understand anything beyond that, and he needed more information.

The Doctor kicked at the ground before glancing up, going for nonchalant again and failing. "Can't really tell you that, Jack."

Jack processed the information with a twinge of annoyance and plunged on. "He saved me." No response. "I can't die, but you brought him back to this time, this place, to save me."

The Doctor inclined his head. "Save you, save the universe. It's all the same thing."

"I can't die," Jack repeated.

"Parker Douglas apparently thought you could," said the Doctor.

"Did he kill me?"

The Doctor took a deep breath before answering. "If he had, I wouldn't be here talking to you about it, would I?" Which was both an answer and a dismissal.

"I see." He didn't, not really.

The Doctor placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's just say I know a bit about the future, and if Parker Douglas _had_ found a way to kill you for good, the consequences would ruin the fun for everyone."

"Did he?" Jack knew perfectly well he wouldn't get any straight answers, but he might be able to trick something out of the Time Lord.

"Did he what?"

"Did he find a way?"

The Doctor's face remained immobile, which told Jack he was very close to hitting the mark. "It was too much of a risk that he might."

Jack let his head fall forward. Still no answers, and only more questions. "So the universe really does revolve around me. I knew it." Bluster and bravado helped cover his growing confusion and despair; something had happened, something that might have had life-altering repercussions for him. The Doctor must have sensed Jack's anxiety, because he motioned Jack forward and pulled him into a strong embrace.

"You have an important future to live, Jack. A long one, yes, and there will be pain and heartbreak, but one day you'll understand, and maybe you won't hate me."

Jack pulled back and cocked his head. "I could never hate you." Which was true, as much as he had tried to over the long years of waiting; sometimes Jack despised himself for not hating the Doctor.

The Doctor smiled sadly. "That's what you told him." He gestured at Ianto, though Jack knew the Doctor wasn't referring to _that _particular Ianto. "Keep your word, Jack. He did what he had to do."

Jack tried not to let the words unsettle him. What exactly had the other Ianto done? Where had he gone? Jack gazed fondly at his Ianto and let the sight fill him with warmth instead of confusion.

"He always does."

There was a long silence, until the Doctor cleared his throat. He did not meet Jack's eyes as he spoke, his voice low and quiet. "He was willing to sacrifice everything for you," the Doctor said. "It's important that you know that."

"What changed his mind?"

Jack recognized the Doctor's sigh, as well as the pain and heartbreak in the man's eyes. He had seen it before in his own face, had felt it before, when difficult decisions ripped out small pieces of his soul. He sensed that the Doctor had just made such a decision, and that it had somehow involved Jack and Ianto. Yet this time the Doctor was not running, not like he had at the Game Station; he was not offering straight answers, either, but he was at least offering support, which was more than he had done in the past.

"He had to save the universe first," the Doctor whispered. His eyes were bright, and he covered his emotions with a cough. "But I do believe that someday he will save you."

Jack was silent as he thought about that statement. Did the Doctor mean it literally, or in some other way? Again he tried to cover his confusion with a casual smile.

"Know that for sure, Doctor?"

"Not yet," the Time Lord replied, a bit of cheek returning to his tone. "But I have a feeling it will happen when you—or I—least expect it."

Jack did not respond, though the words burned themselves into his heart, gripping his soul. _'Someday he will save you.' _It was too much to even try to understand, let alone hope for. _Saved._ It was what he had wanted for decades, to be saved from spending eternity alone, to live a normal life by finding love, growing older, and dying a death that would not find him gasping back to life minutes later.

Yet how could Ianto Jones save him when the last of the Time Lords could not?

They were powerful, heartbreaking words that Jack forced himself to bury deep. He could not dare to hope; loving was hard enough when he knew the outcome each and every time. To hope would break him, and so the Doctor's words would have to remain that: nothing more than words, sounds arranged in an organized jumble that meant nothing.

They were silent for a long moment, until Jack spoke softly. "You're not going to tell me anything else, are you?"

"You know I can't, Jack." The Doctor did look as if he regretted it, at least. That was more than Jack had experienced in the past. There was more silence.

"I should go," the Doctor finally said, a forced lightness to his voice. "People to see, places to meet."

"Universes to save," added Jack, his voice more bitter than he intended.

"That too," said the Doctor. "Always that."

"Thanks for coming," said Jack. "I think." He offered his hand, the awkwardness of the moment hanging between them. The Doctor glanced down, then pulled Jack into another embrace instead.

"It's good to see you a…again, Jack," he stumbled. "Take care."

Jack nodded in response, too tongue-tied to speak. He had already made the choice to stay on Earth when he had returned to Cardiff—had returned to Ianto and the team. He would not change that decision—he had no wish to—but that did not mean that he enjoyed saying goodbye. Even after everything that had happened during The Year That Never Was, or whatever had just happened in the forest that night, Jack still looked up to and admired the Doctor. He would miss the Time Lord and the freedom he represented.

But then Ianto groaned, and Jack nodded goodbye as he stepped away from the Doctor to help the man he had chosen to be with instead. He felt the Doctor watching as if waiting for something, and he turned to salute the Time Lord, who smiled, nodded, and hurried off toward the forest. He stopped abruptly next to Parker Douglas's body and leaned down.

"Got everything else, can't forget this," the Doctor said, picking up the unusual gun Jack remembered Parker Douglas firing earlier. The Time Lord frowned as he stared at it. "56th century, I believe. Can't have it falling into the wrong hands."

Jack wondered what Parker Douglas was doing with a weapon from the far future, and what it had to do with the strange events of the evening. He also wondered if he would ever learn the answers to all the questions he had, but was distracted as the Doctor tipped his head and bounded off into the trees. Jack watched until he heard the distinctive hum of the Tardis, then knelt down next to Ianto.

The Welshman was trying to sit up, shaking his head and wincing before glancing at his hand in confusion. Jack knew how he felt; he'd woken with the same sense of surprise and disorientation. He reached out to place a hand on Ianto's shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Ianto glanced around the clearing as if looking for something.

"Other than being shot, yes," he replied. "Jack, what happened?"

Jack let his head fall to his chest with a silent laugh. "I'm not sure, to be honest."

Ianto studied him for a moment. "But he was here, wasn't he? Your Doctor? I didn't imagine it, did I?"

"No, he was here," Jack replied. He took a deep breath. "But he wouldn't tell me anything."

"He knocked me out," Ianto said, his voice tight yet still tinged with confusion. "Was it because there was another…someone else here as well?"

Jack shrugged as he glanced around the empty clearing, unsure of how to respond. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and he understood very little of it. "Probably."

"There was another me," Ianto murmured, eyes wide. Jack brushed the hair from Ianto's face in an attempt to calm his restless mind. Ianto frowned and batted Jack's hand away. "Wasn't there?"

"Yes," said Jack, reluctant yet honest. "It was you. From the future."

"I came back here from the future?" asked Ianto. "Wait…with the Doctor?"

Jack laughed at Ianto's surprise. "Apparently. I'm not sure whether to be jealous or relieved."

"Relieved?" Ianto rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck before gingerly trying to stand.

"I'm glad you didn't punch him—or worse." Jack helped steady him, then inclined his head toward the edge of the clearing where Gwen and Owen were still out cold.

Ianto snorted. "Who's to say I didn't? Or won't? Whatever." Ianto sighed, ran a hand through his hair, then went and knelt down again next to Owen. "Still no pulse. Stupid git."

It was Jack's turn to roll his eyes, something he greatly enjoyed doing when Ianto was on the receiving end. "They'll be fine, just knocked out by the Doctor's sonic screwdriver."

"Brilliant," Ianto muttered. "We've no idea what's happened other than being taken out by an alien glowstick."

"I think…" Jack trailed off as he tried to gather his thoughts. He stood and gazed around the clearing once more, then felt Ianto come up next to him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

"I don't know," Jack admitted. "Something happened, something important." He turned to Ianto and, without warning, pulled the man close, needing to feel his nearness, his steadfast support. "Something to do with you, and me, and Parker Douglas."

Ianto gazed into Jack's eyes. "I'm sorry I had to kill him, Jack. I know how you feel about that sort of thing."

"Don't apologize. You did what you had to do." His words mirrored the Doctor's, and Jack couldn't help but wonder what that meant. He placed a kiss to Ianto's temple, unable to stop his gaze from wandering back toward where Parker Douglas lay dead in the grass. Ianto had saved Jack's life not once, but twice that night: first by tackling him out of the way, and second by shooting Douglas before the madman had a chance to fire his mysterious gun again. Ianto had done what he had to do.

Jack wondered what had driven Parker to such lengths, that the man had somehow managed to find Jack over three thousand years in the past. He wondered what Douglas knew about his immortality, and if the man had actually found a way to circumvent it. Though the Doctor had not been forthright, Jack knew that the situation must have been serious for the Doctor to involve time travel; it was entirely possible, however improbable, that Parker Douglas had posed a real threat.

And he wondered what Douglas had meant when he had shouted 'Not you again!' Which man had he been referring to? The Doctor? Or Ianto? There had been two Iantos, after all, but there had been a second Doctor as well, Jack was sure of it…

"It's not your fault, Jack."

Jack glanced at Ianto in surprise. "I never said it was."

"But you're thinking it." Ianto paused. "Or you will be, soon enough."

Jack laughed under his breath. "Yeah, probably. It is my fault, though. I did this to him, turned him into this." He gestured at the body of the former Time Agent, feeling nothing but regret.

"No, he did it to himself. He allowed his bitterness and anger to consume him." Ianto stared at the body as well, avoiding Jack's eyes. "You said you were following orders. I'm guessing it was necessary, and that you probably saved hundreds, if not thousands, of lives."

Jack nodded silently, and Ianto continued.

"He broke the law trying to change history, and he went to prison for it. He did this to himself, Jack. Not you. You did what_ you_ had to do, like you always do."

"How do you do that?" Jack murmured. "How do you always see right to the heart of it and know exactly what to say?"

Ianto shrugged. "I know you, Jack. It'll be all right. It's over now."

Jack turned toward him, stepping closer and letting his head come to rest on Ianto's shoulder. Ianto wrapped one arm around Jack's waist and the other around his shoulder and held tight.

"Do you think he really knew how to kill you?" Ianto murmured so softly that Jack barely heard him. He sighed and pulled back to look down at Parker's body once more.

"I don't know. I didn't think it was possible. If the Doctor hadn't arrived with your future self and done whatever _he_ had to do, I'd say no. But now…" He sighed. "Now I don't know. Maybe there really is a way out there, something the Doctor didn't know about, but then…" He trailed off again; Ianto was silent.

"Dammit." Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. "I do _not_ want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for more brilliant, mad Time Agents to pop up and try to kill me."

"Then don't," said Ianto. He reached out and took Jack's hand, pulling him away from his dark contemplation and back to focus on him. Nearby, Gwen and Owen were finally starting to stir. "Don't think about it, just live your life exactly as you have been." He paused. "Looking over your shoulder for all those former partners still holding a grudge."

Jack offered a grin, though he could not come up with one of his more cheeky replies. And the grin faded quickly as he considered the implications of Parker Douglas's unique claim. "What if he was right? What if he found a way to actually kill me? What if someone else does? And succeeds next time?"

Ianto let his eyes slip shut before offering a crooked half smile. "Then you'll die. Is that really so horrible, Jack?"

Laughing to keep a sob from escaping, Jack pulled Ianto into a fierce embrace. "Yeah, it really is. I do _not_ want to leave you. Not now, not yet."

Ianto placed a hand along Jack's jaw and caressed it far more tenderly than he ever did outside of the privacy of the bedroom. "You won't."

"How do you know?" Jack whispered.

"I don't," Ianto replied, honest as ever. "But whatever happens, it's meant to be, and it'll be all right. Perhaps my time traveling self will appear again."

"And?" Jack sensed he was missing something, but couldn't think of what it might be. Ianto kissed him, passionate and full of promise.

"And then I will save you." Another kiss, another caress. "As many times as it takes."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Still not done, but I hope you enjoyed a bit of resolution. Thank you as always to Tamaar, beta extraordinaire. And thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, it means so much and is so encouraging to know people are enjoying it!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

XVIII. _Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in a lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope. ~Reinhold Niebuhr_

It was the bright sunlight streaming through the window that woke him from the dark dreams that never seemed to end. Groaning with exhaustion and impatience, Jack rolled out of bed and rested his head in his hands, silently praying that today would be the day. He needed to move on, get away, and start over, because everywhere he looked he was reminded of another failure, and he couldn't bear it any longer. He was tired of hiding within the four walls of the dingy room he had rented in a local hostel as he waited to escape the world that had begun to feel like a prison.

He had been living on Endymion for decades and had planned to leave it all behind—had sold most of his belongings and left the rest, desperate to board the next outbound freighter—but a series of strong solar flares and the resulting ion storm had grounded the entire planet. He had spent two miserable days in his tiny room alternating between anger and apathy, trying to put another life behind him as he waited to start the next one. It had been one of his better lives, for a time, but like so many others, it had ended badly and taken its toll. He needed to go back to the stars.

It wasn't that the lives he led were usually unhappy or hard. In fact, most had seen him better off than his early years on Earth, or his year with the Master, or the decade he had spent on a prison ship. Sometimes he had found a purpose; sometimes he had found love and a brief sense of security. Other lives had been spent doing nothing but wandering the galaxy, aimless and lonely. During this last life, Jack had settled on Endymion, serving as a military consultant for their defense program. The planet had been invaded by a neighboring star system soon after he had arrived, barely fending them off with his reluctant help. As Jack had never really liked the green-skinned aliens of Vairya (they were a lousy shag, loud, demanding, and sticky), he had taken the opportunity to help protect the people of Endymion from their greedy claws. By the 51st century, Endymion had become a strong member of the galactic economy. So in a way, he had been helping to ensure its success by preserving the timeline, even if he had inadvertently become a part of history.

Never mind that Endymion had reminded him strongly of Earth, that these people were so similar to the fledging humans he'd protected for so long. Never mind that he had fallen for a certain commander with sharp blue eyes, though Jack had tried hard not to become closely involved. He had told himself it was simply another life to live, that companionship was preferable to the deep loneliness he carried with him everywhere, and that he would move on to the next life when he was ready to return to the stars and wander once more.

He was ready now. He had no interest in being a hero anymore; he wanted to stay out history.

He had remained on Endymion far longer than he had expected, cared more about Dorell than he had cared for anyone in decades. They had made a good team and had protected the planet successfully for almost ten years. Ten years in which Jack had almost begun to feel human again, feel normal. Hell, he had gone for months at a time without dying.

The relationship hadn't lasted, but Jack had been all right with that. He had loved Dorell in his own special way, but not like he had loved others over the years. He had been relieved when the man had found the strength to admit he wanted something more, something that Jack could never give him, and hoped Dorell would have many happy years with the man he had eventually found to spend his life with.

Still, Jack had liked Endymion and had kept doing what he did, once again growing comfortable with the sense of purpose that came from protecting an entire planet, and its people, from alien threats. He had known he was setting himself up for heartbreak, but as he had at some point in every new life, he had let himself be swept away by it all. And like so many other times, it had exploded in his face, leaving him devastated and broken once more: a surprise attack after years of peace, hundreds dead, friends and lovers lost forever. As it had once before, the loss had forced Jack to do something terrible, an act of destruction he would add to the list of unforgivables that only seemed to grow.

Jack had tried to forget it all once it was over, but the memories had been too raw, too painful. The Vairya had struck a Faustian bargain, somehow bringing in a group of Cybermen to win their suddenly renewed war. The Cybermen had attacked Endymion, and the planet had only barely managed to repel them, the destruction of the Capital so eerily reminiscent of other disasters from his past that Jack had wondered if he was cursed to relive them over and over. He had known from experience that there would be more attacks, and he had been correct, for the Cybermen had turned on their so-called masters, converting the Vairyan people for their own army and their own purposes. Jack alone had realized the magnitude of the oncoming storm: one planet taken, a base to spread out across the stars, a galaxy fallen to cyber servitude. And so only Jack had been able to do what needed to be done, and the Cybermen had been stopped at great cost, this time to the Vairyan homeworld.

It had reminded him all too much of his time on Earth and the sacrifices he had made for Torchwood. And just as he had back then, he had left his post, roamed the planet he had come to think of as home, and searched for something to save him from despair even as he tried to lose himself and forget.

Mindless sex had given him no reprieve; drugs and alcohol poisoning only saw him revive the next day clear-headed and even more guilty for not even being able to lay claim to a hangover when so many others suffered far worse. There were no more battles to fight, no one to hire himself out to; Endymion was victorious, but exhausted. Jack could fight and defend and even lead; now that the war was over and the cost so high, he could not stay to rebuild. Not when the destruction was his fault. He needed to get off the planet.

And so Jack had signaled the nearest freighter and offered a small ransom for transport. He had been packed and ready when the ion storm had shut down the spaceport. And now he was looking at a third day of being stuck in a city he wanted to forget, on a planet he wanted to put behind him.

As he dressed, Jack couldn't help but think about all the other times he had felt so defeated, so lost. There had been many over the last four centuries, though the one he always found himself remembering the most was his time on Earth, when his mistakes had forced him to sacrifice more than he could bear, and he had left the first planet he'd called home since leaving Boeshane for good.

Stepping out into the bright sunshine, Jack was brought up short by the sight around him and viscerally reminded once more of his reasons for escape: five lunar cycles after the hit by Cybermen, the city was still in ruins, crumbled buildings testament to the attack that had reignited the war with Vairya. His failure on Earth had cost him the life of first his partner and then his grandson; his failure to protect the people of Endymion had cost the lives of thousands. More than anything, it was the expression on almost every face he passed that Jack could no longer bear: the look of pain and heartbreak, but also of strength and determination. He had none of the latter, and too much of the former.

It was on his way to the spaceport, hoping he could find at least one ship that was willing and able to depart, that he heard that damn sound, the familiar whirring and gust of wind. Knowing he might miss his chance to leave the planet by more conventional means, Jack hesitated only a moment before turning down the nearest alley and following the noise. There was little doubt in his mind that it was the Doctor, and he only hoped it was the one he had been wanting to meet for so long, the one who could finally explain what the others had refused to tell him about one night in Cardiff so long ago, when a man named Ianto Jones had somehow saved him from a Time Agent named Parker Douglas.

Oh yes, he remembered. Jack had promised him, and he remembered. Ianto Jones. Friend, lover, colleague, partner. Not just a blip in time.

_"Someday he will save you."_

How could Jack forget the Doctor's words from that night? When Ianto had died in London, Jack had raged at the words and tossed them out as useless, as a lie. Yet deep down he had clung to them and held them close to his heart for centuries. Whenever he was lost, defeated, and unable to go on, they came back and brought him cruel hope. How could Ianto save him when Ianto was dead? It had obviously been a future that would never happen, because time was always changing and Ianto was gone. What did the Doctor know, after all? He rarely told Jack anything, only lies and half-truths.

Jack had met the Doctor's eleventh regeneration not long after he'd left Earth for good, and had even met the Doctor's time-traveling wife, but neither would tell him anything more. Jack had suspected that the man did not know, that it had something to do with the regeneration Jack had just barely glimpsed in the forest: that of an older man, hair gone gray but that quirky dress sense still intact. For some reason, one of the Doctor's future regenerations had traveled to the past, and it had something to do with Jack and Ianto and the man who had tried to kill him, Parker Douglas. After so many years, it was still something Jack was determined to find out some day, even if he had to wait until the 51st century to get his answers.

When Jack found the Tardis, he was relieved that his key still worked. The Doctor had apparently left the ship, however, because the Tardis was empty. Jack stood for a moment in the center of the ship, listening to her song, to the gentle touch of the ship's sentience brushing against his mind. Though the ship appeared slightly different, her presence felt exactly the same, even after so many years. She reassured him that everything was all right, reigniting hope for a better future. If Jack could put a face to the feeling, he'd swear the Tardis was smiling knowingly at him. With a shake of his head, he patted the side of the ship before heading back out into the street to find the Doctor.

He caught up with the Doctor's regeneration in the marketplace, an older man with a long coat whom Jack had seen once before in Cardiff so many years ago. It was the regeneration he had been waiting for. He was so overwhelmed that he set aside his desire to punch the Doctor and embraced the Time Lord instead.

It had been over three hundred years, and Jack needed answers. The Doctor's words—_Someday he will save you_—had been echoing in his head since he had first heard them on a cold night in Cardiff. A mantra that had been almost an obsession at times, those words haunted him most when things were dark. Save Jack from what? From life? From death? From eternity? From himself? There had been years when Jack had done nothing but travel and search for the Doctor, lost in his need to find answers, and years where he had forced it from his mind only to have it come roaring back without fail, never forgotten. Endymion had been a blessing of sorts, a distraction for his troubled soul until the world had fallen to pieces, but now yet again the words came back to haunt him, especially with the sharp memories of his previous encounters with Cybermen—trapped in the Hub, running for his life, _Ianto Jones_— flooding his mind.

The Doctor was surprised to see Jack, but in a more positive way than Jack had expected. He returned Jack's hug more effusively than all three previous regenerations, slinging a companionable arm around Jack's shoulder and directing him to an outdoor café that had been miraculously untouched by battle, where they sat at a table and sipped the local equivalent of tea.

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked after filling the Doctor in on what he had been doing for the last thirty years on Endymion. The Doctor set down his cup and nodded.

"The Tardis seems to have a penchant for solar flares lately, almost like a moth to a flame. As there's usually something interesting going on nearby, it seemed prudent to let her have her way."

Jack nodded, a soft smile playing over his face as he recalled his many trips with the temperamental ship, seemingly random jaunts across time and space that always ended with a purpose.

"Or maybe she wanted to see you," the Doctor continued, watching Jack carefully. "It has been a while." Jack glanced up and met the Doctor's eyes.

"I've been waiting a long time to meet you—this you," Jack said. His voice was quiet; he was unexpectedly feeling nervous now that he was able to confront this regeneration. He might finally have his answers, but what if they were the wrong ones?

"Have we met before?" asked the Doctor, squinting at Jack. "I mean, have I met you with this face before?"

"Not exactly," said Jack. He told the Doctor about that night in the forest, hundreds of years earlier, when he had caught sight of a second Tardis and a different-looking Doctor before losing consciousness.

"Of course!" Blue eyes narrowed behind dark glasses. "I remember meeting myself in Cardiff once. I haven't gone back, though. Not yet." He sipped at his tea and gazed into the distance. "This must be why I go back. You told me you saw me, so I go back in order for you to see me." Focusing on Jack once more, he set down his cup and steepled his hands before him. "Tell me more."

Jack told the Doctor everything he could remember, which was not much, considering he had lost consciousness the moment this Doctor had arrived, and his Doctor had told him little afterwards. The older man nodded as the memories came back, then stood abruptly and turned to leave without a word. Jack hurriedly tossed some coins onto the table before following, just like he always had and always would. He followed the Doctor all the way back to the Tardis in silence.

"I'll see what I can find out for you, Jack," the Doctor said, standing at the door.

"I want to go with you," Jack started, but the Doctor cut him off.

"Timelines and all that. You didn't see yourself there, did you?"

"No."

A raised eyebrow twisted Jack's insides for a moment, reminding him of another time, another place. "Exactly. Wait here. I'll be back before you know it."

Jack raised his own eyebrow at that.

"I'll be back as close to this time as I can."

"Maybe I stayed in the Tardis," Jack said, but the Doctor opened the door and stepped inside, shaking his head.

"Too risky, Jack. Besides, I don't remember it. Well, it hasn't happened for me yet, but it has for you, and you don't remember seeing you, even if you were unconscious. Stay here, and I will return. I promise." When Jack appeared justifiably skeptical, the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"New face, new me. I'm better at this now." He paused and laid a hand on Jack's shoulder, gruff voice softening. "And I'm not going to hurt you again, Jack. I promise."

Jack felt his jaw drop and his heart clench; it was as close to an apology as he had ever had from the Doctor. So he stepped back and watched the Doctor leave, found himself another place to stay that night when the Doctor didn't return, and continued to wait, just as he had for hundreds of years.

Damn that Time Lord.

Two days later Jack woke from another nightmare, this time involving the near destruction of his adopted homeworld by Cybermen. He cleaned and dressed. For some reason, he felt the urge to pull on a blue button down shirt and khaki pants. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but grin as he remembered his time on Earth and the long wool coat he had always worn with that particular outfit. He was reminded of the tin of memories he'd collected over the years. The original had been destroyed with the Hub back on Earth, but he'd found a replacement and kept it close. After pulling it from a rucksack, he rummaged through it until he found the cufflinks he'd taken from Ianto Jones's apartment when he and Gwen Cooper had returned to Cardiff to pack Ianto's belongings following the disaster with the 456. They had been Jack's cufflinks—a deep blue stone set in silver, worn for his first wedding ages ago— and he had given them to Ianto as a gift, a symbol of his commitment to the Welshman who had captured his heart so briefly yet so completely. It was with a deep sense of loss and longing that he put them on now, fastening them carefully, hoping the Doctor would return that day and finally have answers so he could move on in peace.

_Someday he will save you._

Jack knew he couldn't be saved, but that didn't stop him from hoping, deep down, that there was some sort of truth to the words he had been carrying around for so long.

As he made his way to the café where he and the Doctor had first talked, Jack tried not to see memories in every face he passed, the ghosts of friends and lovers and even enemies staring out at him from each set of eyes he glanced at. It was hard. He was always maudlin when moving on, but running into the Doctor this time had made it worse, and he found himself seriously contemplating a long stay at the nearest pleasure planet. He could afford to spend a year drunk and high on sex; he had forever, after all. It wouldn't ease the pain or relieve the loneliness, but it would be familiar, a mindless way to lose himself before once again moving forward with his endless, monotonous life.

As he rounded the corner, one ghost in particular almost stopped his heart. Sitting outdoors at the café was a tall man with his back turned to the street. He had dark hair with long sideburns, and he was wearing clothing obviously out of time and character for Endymion. And he was holding a sturdy black mug in his hands, inhaling it before slowly tasting the liquid within. Jack felt certain it was coffee, not tea, from the way the man sipped.

Jack couldn't move. He watched the man, breathless. His heart raced as his eyes traced the lithe lines of the man's neck, the cut of the shirt across his slim shoulders, the way his waistcoat hugged the solid planes of his back. God, it looked just like him, and Jack wanted to stand there forever, hoping the man would not turn and spoil the illusion. And yet as the stranger set down his mug, Jack noticed his right hand. It was injured, with a light wrap around the palm that the man scratched at as if it itched.

As the memories flooded his mind in a torrential rush of thought and emotion, Jack sank to his knees in the middle of the pavement across the way from the café.

Several people around him gasped, which in turn caused the man with the injured hand to turn and see what had happened. Jack's world exploded as familiar blue eyes met his and widened, and the man practically leapt across the street, running toward him.

Jack's vision was clouded by tears, his breathing quick with shock. The other man sounded distant to his fuzzy ears, but Jack remembered that Welsh accent and let it surround him as the man kneeled before him.

"Jack?" he asked. "Jack, are you all right?"

Jack gazed into the eyes of the man he had not seen for three hundred years, the man the Doctor had said would save him one day. And suddenly everything was different, everything was clear, everything was _all right._

"I am now."

And he was, whether Ianto Jones was there to save him or not.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry this one is a bit later, but it was tough and needed a good deal of work. So many thanks to Tamaar for holding my hand through the whining and not only encouraging me to get on with it, but tweaking, fixing, and simply rewriting all the awkward stuff. She also named the planet where this takes place (props if you know the connection!), which inspired me to finally come up with the name of the planet that attacked (connection there too!). I do hope you enjoyed it. Love it, hate it? Expected, surprised, excited? Let a girl know—reviews are ambrosia.

P.S. No, this is not the end!


	19. Chapter Nineteen

XIX. _A man who was completely innocent, offered himself as a sacrifice for the good of others, including his enemies, and became the ransom of the world. It was a perfect act._ _~Mahatma Gandhi_

The song of the Tardis wrapped itself around him, holding him close like an ethereal lover, whispering declarations of adoration in his ear. He felt love and comfort, fear and concern, pride and contentment. It was so alien, and yet so familiar and soothing that Ianto did not wish to wake up, though the song was gently prodding him to open his eyes, to sit, and breathe, and move.

Move?

Ianto's eyes flew open with a gasp. He was still on the Tardis. Or rather, as confused memories abruptly returned, he realized that he was on the Tardis again, only this time it was different—older, perhaps. It was not the same ship in which he had traveled to the forest, just as it was not the same Doctor who had piloted it, grabbing Ianto as he had thrashed in agony through the pain of temporal fading. And yet…they _were_ the same, only slightly changed. Regeneration.

Holding up a hand, Ianto turned it slowly and pondered his fate. He was on the Tardis. He had not faded, nor had he forgotten anything that had happened. He had expected to die in the past, and yet here he was, trapped on a time machine and traveling toward who knew what future. Examining his hand closely, Ianto was surprised to find it solid. The song swirling around him laughed with amusement, joyfully enjoying his bewilderment.

Ianto felt a subtle push to stand, to see if everything were as it should be. He found that not only could he stand upright, but he could do so without the bone-crushing pain he remembered from earlier. How much earlier? Glancing around, Ianto frowned at the irony: he was in a time machine but he had no idea what time it really was, how long he had been unconscious, or when he might be.

A sigh of relief escaped parched lips as he gingerly took his first steps forward. As his limbs quickly became accustomed to the motion, he found that he could walk about the room with fairly steady steps. He headed toward what appeared to be a door, and it slid aside for him, the song of the Tardis gently guiding him toward wherever it was he needed to go at that moment. He followed, allowing himself to be lead, because in spite of his apprehension, and as strange as it seemed, he couldn't help but trust that this was right.

He soon found himself in what he had assumed was the main room of the ship the first time he'd stepped inside—the control room, the bridge—though it was like no other bridge of a spaceship that he'd ever seen. The Tardis hummed and pulsed strongest here, lights glowing and song flowing over and around and through him. Ianto stopped, closed his eyes, and let the song envelop him once more. It was peace, it was love, it was eternal.

"I see you're awake." The man who had carried him onto the ship screaming in agony was standing against a nearby pillar, arms crossed over his chest. He had discarded the long blue jacket and was wearing only the waistcoat over a plain white shirt. A fob watch chain hung from the pockets. Blue eyes stared at him intensely, with a subtle smile playing at the man's lips.

"Where am I?" asked Ianto.

"I should think that was obvious."

"It's the Tardis, but it's different." Ianto paused from glancing around the room and focused on the Doctor. "You're different."

"I thought we went over this already, Mr. Jones. Regeneration."

"And redecoration?" asked Ianto. This Doctor was almost as frustrating as the other, and Ianto decided to meet the man's elusiveness with his own touch of insolence.

The Doctor raised a bushy eyebrow. "I like that. Redecoration. Yes, I suppose we both needed it."

"So…" Ianto trailed off, unsure what to say, what to do.

"Ask the right question, Mr. Jones, and you will get the right answer."

Ianto took a deep breath and glanced around once more before it occurred to him. The ship was still, and he felt certain they had landed. The Tardis hummed with almost gleeful anticipation as he tried to focus his thoughts. "_When_ am I?"

"I knew you were intelligent!" The Doctor nodded once, pushing off the pillar and walking toward Ianto. "Welcome to the 24th century, Mr. Jones."

Ianto blinked. "And what are we doing in the 24th century?"

"How are you feeling?" the Doctor asked instead. He stood in front of Ianto, arms behind his back as he peered into Ianto's eyes. "A bit more permanent, I hope."

"I do, and that's another question I'd like the answer for," Ianto replied. Why? Why was he still alive? Why was he with a future regeneration of the Doctor? Why was he in the 24th century?

"All in due time, Mr. Jones," said the Doctor, turning around and stalking away. He grabbed his coat and moved toward the door. "If you'll please come with me."

"That's the second time you've said that," Ianto grumbled. "And the second time you've not given me a reason to follow."

"I said please," the Doctor replied. It was exactly like something Jack would say, only Jack would hold his hands together and offer Ianto his puppy dog eyes. The vision hit him so suddenly that Ianto almost gasped as he closed his eyes against it. As he took a steadying breath, he realized something vitally important: he was alive and he was in the 24th century. If Jack was still immortal, then he would be alive as well, which meant there was a very good chance that—

"I see you're starting to put things together," the Doctor said quietly. His face had softened, his tone one of understanding and compassion. "Perhaps you'd like to step outside and see the 24th century for yourself."

Ianto swallowed and nodded. "What about—" he started, but the Doctor stopped him.

"As I said, all in good time. For now, let's have a cup of tea. Or coffee. I remember hearing that you enjoy coffee." Ianto stared at him and the Doctor smiled, sadness tempered with a forced lightness. "And I know just the place."

The Doctor hurried out the door. It was not the manic step of the Doctor Ianto had first met, but a more focused yet no less energetic movement. Ianto followed with reluctance; as much as he might need a cup of 24th century coffee, he needed answers more, and would only get them by seeing this through.

He stepped out of the Doctor's strange ship into a world that at first glance he could have mistaken for his own. Yet the differences were quickly obvious: the sky was more teal than blue, the sunlight a slightly different tint as well. They had apparently landed in some sort of alley, and when they stepped out into a busy street, Ianto was immediately struck by the striking alien architecture, as well as numerous non-humans crowding the streets.

It was definitely not Earth.

For the second time in as many days Ianto was off world and out of his time. He had known when he had started working for Torchwood that it would lead to encounters with all sorts of alien tech, if not alien species themselves, but he had never believed he would ever leave the planet; the possibility of time travel hadn't even crossed his mind until he'd come to Cardiff. Now he was experiencing both, and it was beyond his wildest dreams.

"This way, I believe," said the Doctor, nodding as if to reassure himself. Ianto followed once more, his natural curiosity beginning to kick in and overcoming his fatigue and anxiety.

"So where are we?" he asked as a blue-skinned alien hurried past him, eying him strangely. "What planet?"

"We are on a rather quiet little planet called Endymion. Beautiful place, though they've suffered some setbacks in recent months."

Ianto was about to ask what had happened when they turned a corner; the sight before them stopped him in his tracks.

Entire buildings had been reduced to piles of rubble. What had obviously been a massive skyscraper was in complete ruins and surrounded by a tall fence, where a handful of people stood as if in vigil, watching as the site was cleared. Glancing around, Ianto noticed other buildings that were damaged or destroyed, trees half burned, cracks in the pavement. And yet life continued through the destruction.

"What happened?" he asked, stunned at the magnitude of it. He was viscerally reminded of the most horrible day of his life, the day Torchwood One had fallen and Canary Wharf had been destroyed. Caught between warring forces, it had been a nightmare of death and devastation, and it flashed before his eyes without warning. He sucked in a deep breath to try to calm his racing heart.

"Invasion," the Doctor replied, frowning at the scene around him. "I was told it was Cybermen. Can't seem to shake them, no matter what century it is."

"Cybermen." Ianto whispered the hated word. He let his eyes slip closed in a useless attempt to dispel the memories now racing through his mind: the sounds of battle, of pain and death; the smell of hot metal and burning skin; the sight of ruined offices and mangled bodies. He couldn't suppress a shiver.

"Cold, brutal metal monsters," the Doctor said, misinterpreting Ianto's tone. "I've fought them before, but they keep coming back."

"I know them."

Three simple words, yet the Doctor looked at him in surprise.

"Torchwood One, London."

"Ah." The Doctor narrowed his eyes, piercing Ianto with that same intensity he'd already encountered. "You were at Canary Wharf, with the Daleks."

"I was." Ianto heard the curt, clipped tones of his voice but could not help it. It was still a very painful memory, even after a year and a half, and he couldn't care less if the Doctor took it personally and was insulted.

"You lost someone special." It was not a question, but a statement. It must have been obvious from his response that Ianto had lost someone; the Doctor couldn't know he had lost her twice. Ianto nodded.

"I'm sorry. I did as well," said the Doctor, turning away and walking again. Ianto glanced at the ruined building once more and followed.

"I'm sorry," echoed Ianto, not knowing what else to say.

The Doctor offered him a smile that Ianto could only describe as bittersweet. "It's all right. I found her. I suspect you didn't."

This time Ianto did not answer; what was there to say? He was three hundred years in the future with a madman on a planet attacked by Cybermen. It was the last place he wanted to be, and the last thing he wanted to talk about was his dead girlfriend.

"I'm sorry it's brought back those memories, seeing it like this," said the Doctor as they continued to walk. "It's really a rather beautiful place." He indicated a café across the street, strangely untouched by the destruction around it. "A solar flare brought me here, and I ran into an old friend I'd like you to meet. Let's get a table and have something to drink while we wait."

They crossed the pavement and sat at an outdoor table. The Doctor left him to order their drinks inside, and Ianto passed the time by watching the various tables around him, as well as the people in the street. It was busy and bustling, no different than any café on the quay at noon, except for the smattering of aliens passing by. He shook his head yet again, that his life had taken such a turn. He felt like he should be panicking, only he was so numb inside he couldn't find the energy to worry about the future anymore.

The Doctor returned shortly with a steaming black mug that almost made Ianto's heart skip a beat. Did he know the mug was identical to the one Ianto used everyday at the Hub? Or rather, _had_ used. He would never see that mug again, or the blue and white mug he had carried to Jack, or the coffee machine he had stood at six times a day, fueling the team he would never see again…

Ianto didn't even realize he had closed his eyes until the sound of the mug on the table forced them open. The Doctor was standing above him with a curious eyebrow raised. "Are you feeling well? You've been through a lot recently…perhaps you'd like some food?"

Staring at the mug, Ianto slowly processed the Doctor's words before he nodded in reply. Perhaps something to eat would help. He had no idea how long it had been since Tosh had brought him something to eat in the morgue while he sat with Jack. Perhaps food would help him feel grounded, alive, real. He nodded again, more certain this time.

"Yes, thank you. I think that would help a good deal."

"I'll pick up something inside. My tea should be ready." He turned and left Ianto once more. After a few calming breaths, Ianto tentatively picked up the black mug and sniffed it. The dark liquid within smelled similar to his own coffee, but with hints of licorice and an unknown spice that was pleasantly exotic. Blowing gently across the steaming liquid, he took a sip, felt a warm tingle against his lips, and smiled: it was strong, but good. Alien coffee that actually tasted good. His life could get no stranger.

He was sipping at his drink, idly scratching at his right hand, when he heard several gasps from the pavement across the street. A small crowd had gathered to help a man who had fallen to his knees. Ianto's breath caught in his throat as he instantly recognized the man's profile. And when the man turned slightly and they locked eyes, Ianto felt his entire body go numb, the coffee cup falling from nerveless fingers to shatter upon the ground.

It was Jack.

Ianto leapt from his seat and dashed across the street, unable to believe this was Jack, here, on this planet, in this time. How was it even possible? The universe couldn't possibly be that kind and benevolent in doling out astronomically impossible coincidences. In the back of his mind, Ianto realized the Doctor had brought him to this planet to meet Jack, but the thought was pushed away as he knelt before Jack, whose pale face appeared as if he had seen a ghost.

"Jack?" Ianto asked, wanting to reach out but not knowing if he should, if this Jack three hundred years in the future would even remember him. "Jack, are you all right?"

Jack stared at him, then reached a tentative hand toward Ianto's face, fingertips barely brushing along his jaw, sending shivers down Ianto's spine.

"I am now."

And he wrapped his hand around Ianto's head, pulling him forward into a crushing embrace. Ianto was fairly sure he heard a few sighs from the small crowd gathered around them, as well as a smattering of applause, as if they were trapped in a scene from one of the soppier romance films he'd half watched with Lisa. Yet when Jack pulled back and crushed their lips together in passionate kiss filled with longing and something else Ianto couldn't identify, he didn't care. It was more perfect than any other kiss they had ever shared, and when they laid their foreheads together to catch their breath, he noticed they both had silent tears on their face.

"What are you doing here?" Ianto whispered, wiping away Jack's tears. Jack laughed somewhat breathlessly.

"I'm the immortal one," he replied. "And I'm waiting for the Doctor, yet again."

Ianto nodded, somehow not surprised, and helped Jack to stand. "He's back. He brought me here."

"Of course," Jack murmured. "He left days ago, went back to Cardiff. I just wanted answers." He ran another hand across Ianto's face. "I didn't think he'd bring you here."

"Neither did I," Ianto dryly. "Frankly, I have no idea what's going on, other than I'm in the 24th century on a planet called Endymion."

Jack frowned, before Ianto noticed his gaze focus on something across the pavement. "Come on, we'll ask the Doctor. We both deserve answers." He took Ianto's hand tightly in his own and stalked across the street. The Doctor was sitting at the table Ianto had dashed away from, calmly sipping his cup of tea.

"What's going on?" Jack demanded with no greeting whatsoever. "I've been waiting for days with no word, and then all of a sudden you're sitting here having coffee with Ianto?"

The Doctor blinked. "It seemed the proper thing to do, after a trip like that. Mr. Jones needed some sustenance." He gestured at the table, where two plates were loaded with food. "Please, join us."

"Not until you explain what's going on," said Jack. He looked genuinely upset, with both confusion and hope written across his face. "If you brought him here only for me to watch him die again—"

"Jack," said the Doctor, his voice firm. "Sit down. Let Mr. Jones eat. He's still recovering from a particularly nasty bout of temporal fading." He picked up his utensils and began to eat. Jack stared at him before turning to Ianto.

"Temporal fading?" he asked, his faced crumpled with uncertainty. "But…"

Ianto stared at him as understanding began to coalesce. "I didn't die," he said softly. "I'm not your Ianto."

"You didn't…" Jack whispered. He stepped away as if in shock, as if he couldn't touch Ianto anymore, and Ianto felt his heart clench and his head fall to his chest. "You're not…"

"You're not his Jack, either," said the Doctor, his tone sharper than Ianto had heard it yet. "Sit down, the both of you, and I will explain."

Ianto took a deep breath and sat down. He stared at his plate, a collection of foods he didn't recognize. The Doctor waved his fork, rolled his eyes, and took a sip of tea before setting it down hard. "Eat, Mr. Jones. You need your strength. Jack, sit down and feed him if you have to."

Jack did not smile as he sat down. He was still watching Ianto warily. The warmth had gone from his earlier greeting, replaced by apprehension. Ianto couldn't blame Jack. If he had lost someone only to run into another version of them three hundred years later, he'd be wary as well. He shook his head, offered Jack a tentative smile, and began to pick at his plate. Jack continued to watch him, and the Doctor watched them both, as if waiting for them to figure it out themselves.

"You're the other one," Jack finally said. "The one from that night in the forest, when Parker Douglas tried to shoot me. You're the one who pushed me out of the way, the one from the future."

Ianto glanced up, let his gaze slide to the Doctor where it was met with a nod of approval, and then spoke. "Yes. I am."

"The Doctor had brought you back to that point in time to save me." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "Even though I can't die."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Before Ianto could open his mouth to speak, the Doctor answered. "Jack, you know he can't answer that. You asked me the same thing that night, if I recall."

"I deserve to know!" Jack growled.

"You do," said the Doctor, agreeing smoothly. "But you also know that knowledge of the future cannot be given out lightly, particularly in your unique situation."

Jack looked angry, ready to argue, until Ianto laid a hand on his arm. "It's all right, Jack," he said softly, locking eyes with the Doctor. He understood without words why Jack could not know what had happened that night. Ianto had gone back in time to save Jack from dying because, as a fixed point in time, his death would destroy the universe. Yet what would it do to Jack to know that there was a way for him to die forever? Would he accept it and leave it be, or would he seek it out, driven by desperation after hundreds of years?

Would he choose to die, if he could, even knowing the consequences?

Ianto knew without a glimmer of doubt that the Jack he had known would have left it alone, would have chosen immortality without any hesitation if he could save even one person, let alone the entire universe. But this Jack was a different man, with three hundred more years of experience and heartbreak burdening him; what would he choose? And even if this Jack accepted it as well, what would a future Jack do with the knowledge, after thousands of years of living and loving and losing?

That was the risk the Doctor could not take, that one day Jack would willingly use the knowledge of Parker Douglas's actions to end his own life, and by doing so destroy the universe. And that was the burden that Ianto felt fall upon his already burdened shoulders, that he could never tell Jack that he had died, that it was even possible for his suffering to end.

Not only would Ianto bear the guilt of sacrificing Jack's death to save the universe, but now he would bear the additional guilt of keeping it secret from Jack himself.

It was too much. He found himself absorbing Jack's frustration and pushed his plate away, no longer hungry as he realized the implications of his presence there. And he had no answers to explain any of it. "Actually, it's not all right. Why am I here? Why aren't I dead? What did you do to me?"

Jack looked startled at the sudden change in topic and tone, but seemed to sense it was more important than his own questions and turned toward the Doctor, eyebrows raised. The Doctor was silent as he chewed his food, glancing back and forth between them.

"I should think it was obvious. Mr. Jones here was from a timeline that no longer existed. He began to fade. You know what temporal fading is, Jack. You've seen it before." Jack nodded curtly, and the Doctor continued. "He wasn't just dying, he was disintegrating, disappearing from existence. So I brought him here."

"How?" snapped Ianto.

"In the Tardis, of course."

"I meant, how am I still alive? Why didn't I fade?"

The Doctor leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Also obvious."

After a moment of silence, Jack spoke. "What did you do?" His voice was a low growl, his face pale. Ianto glanced at him in alarm.

"What is it?" he asked

"What did you do?" Jack demanded again, ignoring Ianto and leaning forward across the table with an angry light in his eyes. The Doctor merely raised a bushy eyebrow at Jack's sudden fury.

_"_Not what you think. I wouldn't do that to anyone, Jack, but I had to stabilize him_."_

Jack stood, his chair tipping over. Ianto had no idea why Jack was so upset. "You had no right to do _anything _to him!" he shouted. Ianto remembered the other Doctor, the younger Doctor, saying something similar as he was carried toward the Tardis back in Cardiff.

"I had to save him," said the Doctor. His voice was controlled and neutral: no regret, no apology, no defensiveness, nothing. "I had to save you both."

Jack sucked in a breath, and with a rush of adrenaline and insight, Ianto understood. He understood why the other Doctor had protested, why Jack was so upset, and most importantly, he understood what this Doctor might have done.

That didn't stop the realization from leaving him speechless. Jack seemed consumed by rage, his jaw working uselessly, until he lashed out and caught the Doctor on the chin, much as Ianto had done when he had first met the Doctor at the Hub.

The Doctor fell backward out of his chair. Ianto jumped up and grabbed Jack just as Owen had grabbed him.

"Jack, stop. It's all right." It wasn't, not really, but he had to say something. Jack looked devastated. He turned bright eyes to Ianto and pulled him into a fierce embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, choking back a sob. "I'm so sorry. I didn't ask him to do anything. I would never wish it on you, on anyone. It's—"

"It's done, Jack," said Ianto. "Whatever it is, whatever he's done to me, it's over, and we'll deal with it as best as we can." He paused and stepped back to gaze directly into Jack's eyes. "Unless you want to leave. You're not tied to me in anyway just because I'm here now. I know I'm not the same man you knew and lost."

Once again Jack's mouth moved silently, until he claimed Ianto with a blazing kiss that answered better than any words could. "I am _not _losing you again." He took Ianto's face in his hands, gripping tighter than was probably necessary. "You died in my arms. I tried so hard to save you, and I have never forgiven myself for what happened. I would do anything for you, Ianto. Including forever, if that's what we've been given."

This time it was Ianto who sucked in a breath as the full force of Jack's feelings slammed into him, leaving him speechless. The moment was broken, however, by the Doctor, who stood with a hand to his face, rubbing his jaw where a bruise was already darkening.

"He's not like you, Jack," said the Doctor. "He doesn't have forever-" Yet before Jack and Ianto could do more than turn toward him in surprise, there was a shout, and the area around the outdoor seating began to clear as people screamed and ran away. Ianto wondered if the planet was under attack again and felt a moment of blind panic as the thought of facing another army of Cybermen filled his mind, leaving him frozen with fear. He stood rooted to the spot, Jack still beside him, but it was not a Cyberman who appeared from the fleeing crowd.

It was Parker Douglas.

It was as if he was reliving a bad dream; everything about the night Douglas had cornered them in the forest flashed through Ianto's mind, from the man's crazed green eyes to his strange gun with the temporal bullet to the grim confidence that he was able to kill Jack. And yet even as those images played across his mind's eye, another part of Ianto's brain was registering something different. This man was thin and unkempt, his green eyes more dull with fatigue and pain than manic desperation. The gun he held appeared fairly normal to Ianto; in fact, he quickly catalogued it as an Arcturan energy pistol from the 28th century, identical to one they had in the archives.

This was Parker Douglas, but not the same Parker Douglas he had met in the forest twice before.

"What the hell are you doing here, Parker?" Jack growled, stepping in front of Ianto. For some reason, that bothered Ianto, and he stepped to Jack's side, determined to stand next to him as an equal. He was as much a part of this as Jack was, after all.

"Hello, Jack," said Douglas, a small yet almost sad smile gracing his thin lips. "I could ask you the same thing, you know." He frowned. "Especially since you don't look much different than the last time I saw you. You've barely aged."

"You have."

Douglas shrugged. "It's been 25 years for me, Jack. How long has it been for you? Five? Ten?"

Ianto glanced sideways at Jack. This was clearly an earlier version of Parker Douglas, one who didn't know Jack's unique history, one who wasn't quite burning with the desperate need to destroy Jack. Jack seemed to have figured it out as well, nodding slowly to both answer and signal his understanding of Ianto's questioning look.

"A bit more," Jack replied casually. "So how did you find me?" Ianto heard the unspoken _'This time'_ and was glad that Jack did not speak it out loud.

Douglas was still frowning, but his gun was trained with a steady hand on Jack's heart. "The Time Agency was disbanded when I was released, but I managed to get myself a manipulator. Programmed it to pick up a signal and track it across time, and I just so happened to be passing through the system when I came across yours, right here in the 24th century."

Douglas stopped and offered a glimpse of the cruel smile Ianto remembered from Cardiff. "All too easy, really."

"You can't kill me," said Jack, and Ianto exchanged a glance with the Doctor, who had risen and was standing quietly behind them, watching the confrontation.

"You always were a cocky son of a bitch." Douglas laughed, but it was not the mad laugh Ianto had already heard; it was bitter, almost defeated. It also occurred to him that Douglas had not given Ianto one look of recognition. He had clearly not encountered Ianto yet on his timeline, or Douglas would be certainly gloating about shooting him once already. This could play to their advantage.

"And you were a good man, once," Jack snapped back. "Parker, don't do this. You don't want to go down this road. It's not worth it."

"Know that for sure, Jack?" Douglas asked, sounding almost conversational. It was so different from their other confrontation with the man.

"Yes, I do." Jack stood his ground, just as he had in Cardiff.

"Ever lose your wife? Twice?" The switch flipped, and Douglas became the unpredictable madman they had met in Cardiff. He stepped forward, flicked the safety, and tensed his muscles. "Because I have, and it's all your fault. You did it, Jack. You did _this._ And I think it will absolutely be worth it."

Just as quickly as he had in the forest, Douglas pulled the trigger. Without even thinking Ianto threw himself in front of Jack and felt the bolt of light slam into his side, ripping through flesh and muscle, blood instantly soaking through his clothing as he fell to the ground.

Parker Douglas swore, and Ianto was sure he would shoot again, killing either him, or Jack, or both of them. Instead, he heard Jack growl with rage as he pulled out his gun, the click of the safety almost slamming into him like another bullet.

"Jack!" he shouted. "Don't kill him!"

He heard the sound of Jack's ancient Webley discharging and the grunt of pain as it hit Parker Douglas once, twice. Another shot from the blaster went wide before Ianto turned his head to see a flash of light as Parker Douglas disappeared with one hand held against his shoulder, and his leg bleeding profusely.

He had transported out, leaving Jack breathing heavily over Ianto, Webley raised. On the ground, Ianto struggled to move, but found his entire side was numb. He didn't want to chance looking at it; he knew it was fatal from the amount of blood soaking through his suit. The look of complete despair on Jack's face as he sunk to the ground next to Ianto only confirmed it, as did the look of surprise that the Doctor wore as he watched.

"Did he escape?" Ianto whispered, unable to speak any louder. Jack nodded, kneeling next to him and gently cradling his head and shoulders in his lap.

"I hit him," Jack replied, his own voice shaky. "But I don't think I killed him."

"You couldn't," said Ianto, putting it together. "He had to survive. He finds John Hart and travels to the…" Ianto coughed to cover up his slip and hoped Jack thought he was struggling for breath. He cleared his head and continued. "…travels to the past to kill you instead."

"Which is where you stopped him. Twice." Jack closed his eyes. "Both of you. If I'd killed him now that would have never happened, and you wouldn't be here."

"Just doing my job, sir." Ianto tried to keep it light, but Jack's face crumpled.

"You saved me," Jack whispered. "You've saved me so many times, in so many ways. It was never your job."

"It was my privilege," Ianto whispered. It was maudlin and sentimental, but he was dying; wasn't he allowed emotional last words? In spite of whatever the Doctor had done, whatever Jack had both hoped and feared, Ianto was once again dying in Jack's arms.

"No, it was mine. Ianto, I—" Jack's eyes widened as Ianto convulsed, a groan escaping as a cough racked his body, and he felt blood on his lips.

"No! No no no no no no no—no! _Ianto_. No, no, no…" Jack pulled him tight, and Ianto couldn't help but smile, because if this was how he was going to die, then it was a good way to go.

"Doctor, do something!" Jack cried, but Ianto shook his head, knowing the answer.

"There's nothing I can do anymore, Jack," said the Doctor. Ianto was surprised to hear stunned grief and heartbreak in the Time Lord's voice. "I didn't think anything like this would happen so quickly…" There was the note of confusion again. What had the Doctor thought, then?

Ianto felt the pain begin to fade and knew it was because his body was shutting down. The end was near, and this time there would be no mad Doctor appearing from nowhere and rushing in to save the day. The scene was achingly familiar, as Jack hovered above him, holding one arm around his shoulders while the other clutched at Ianto's hand, their fingers wound together in front of Ianto's heart.

"Ianto? Ianto, stay with me. You're here now, alive—stay with me, please!"

Jack looked more frightened and upset than Ianto had ever seen him, and his heart shattered yet again at seeing such pain on Jack's face.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry." He felt like he was repeating himself, reliving the horrible moment of Jack's death, only in reverse this time, yet even worse: this Jack had already lost him once, and had thought for one brief, shining moment that they might have another future together, even forever. Now that future was about to end. "Please forgive me."

"Don't," Jack sobbed, shaking his head. "There's nothing to forgive."

"I tried to save you," Ianto sighed, letting his eyes slip closed. "I wish I could save you."

"Ianto, you did!" Jack actually shook his shoulders lightly, tapped a gentle hand against Ianto's cheek. "You did save me. You saved me then, and you saved me now. Ianto? Don't go. Don't leave me again, please. Please don't go."

He had no choice: it was time. He had tried to save Jack, and maybe he had in some way, but the universe would certainly not let him live to see it. Ianto felt the last of his life force draining away. He relaxed into Jack's hold and let a sense of peace and calm flow through him, enveloping him in warmth and love. Taking a breath, he spoke for the last time.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Ianto smiled as Jack's tears fell onto his face, and he felt the other man's body shaking as Jack pulled Ianto close and clung to him through the sobs. The last thing Ianto heard was the sound of Jack's voice, washing over him as the darkness closed around him, sending him into a peaceful darkness filled with a strange golden light.

"And I will always miss you, Ianto Jones."

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm sorry!

Bu it's not over yet, so deep breaths. There are at least two more chapters.

And then I may write the biggest author's note ever because anything I say here may spoil things to come. Just know that Tamaar is awesome and amazing and deserves all the love. I really wanted one particular twist to work, but it wouldn't…until she suggested the brilliant twist on the twist that you have here.

I will tell you more at the end. Just giver her a hand please. It was great fun to hammer it out with her.

Also, no copyright infringement (or heartbreak) is intended. Some dialogue may look familiar as it is from Children of Earth: Day Four. As well as a line or two from my own earlier chapters.

Thank you for reading! Have a Kleenex, sip some coffee, and remember: it's not over.


	20. Chapter Twenty

XX. _"One cannot undo what has happened. But the inexorable march of time offers the wise opportunities for redemption. I entreat you, do not escape. Stay in this world and do your karma. ~Amish Tripathi_

Jack was numb.

Empty.

He was sitting in the middle of a café with his dead lover in his arms. Again. Not a different lover, another lost to old age or death, but the same man who had died in his arms once already. And just as it had been then, this was his fault now—his past, his mistake, his curse ruining another chance at life for the man who had died fighting by his side on Earth so long ago.

The universe was a cruel mistress. Jack wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry; he did both, giving in to every emotion warring within him.

He heard the local authorities arrive, registered in the back of his mind that the Doctor was still there, somewhere behind him, trying to handle the increasing crowd. It was as if he were trying to keep them away from Jack and Ianto, stop them from questioning one and taking the other away. Jack was not going to let anyone take Ianto from him. Not this time. Not again. Not ever.

He was vaguely aware that his thought processes were beginning to border on irrational, but the part of him aching with grief and swirling with anger brushed aside the realization and embraced it. He'd suffered enough; he could scream and rage all he wanted, when he was ready. First he gave in to the pain of his heart breaking yet again.

Murmuring promises of nonsense, Jack rocked Ianto in his arms, occasionally slipping into another language, even into song. When he heard the Doctor calling his name, he shook his head, shut his eyes, and pulled Ianto closer to him. Blood soaked them both, warm and tacky and never-ending, a red blanket of anguish smothering his soul. He had been killed by an energy pistol several times; it was not the clean, painless death old science fiction serials would have one believe. It was painful and messy and _gods_ why had Ianto jumped in front of him, what had he been _thinking,_ when he knew Jack couldn't die, not ever, not until the universe ended, if even then. He was immortal, eternal, and he was alone because—

Jack's head jerked up. His anger coalesced into a single white-hot point of despair.

The Doctor.

He had died for the Doctor once, that first time they had fought the Daleks, and he had died for the Doctor several times since that day. Jack had lost everything he ever cared about _because_ of the Doctor. Taking several deep breaths, he focused his rage. He set Ianto's body down on the pavement, kissing him on the forehead, brushing fingertips against still soft yet cooling lips. One of the local authorities turned toward them and stepped forward as Jack stood. He raised a finger and growled at the woman.

"Don't touch him. Not one finger, or I will cut it off and feed it to you."

The poor woman stepped back, terrified. Jack whirled and found the Doctor deep in conversation with two men, one of whom Jack recognized as the leader of the city's defense unit. He literally shoved them both aside as he stalked toward the Doctor, grabbing him by his collar and lifting him from the ground, only to toss him forcefully onto the nearest table. He heard the intake of breath behind him and whipped out his Webley, firing it into the air and demanding that everyone back away. Then he placed the weapon over one of the Doctor's hearts.

"Why?" he ground out, torn between shouting and sobbing. "Why did you bring him here just to die? I've already gone through this once!" He tightened his grip on the Doctor's collar, ignoring the pained look in the Time Lord's eyes. The man wasn't upset for Jack; he was scared for his own life. The Doctor was nothing but a cruel, selfish, backstabbing time traveling bastard, picking up companions to feed his ego and tossing them to the side over and over, ruining their lives just as he had ruined Jack's.

"I'm sorry, Jack," the Doctor managed through the chokehold Jack still clung to like a lifeline. Jack's eyes widened as he pressed the gun harder into the Doctor's chest, trying to keep it steady and failing.

"Liar!" he hissed. "You've never apologized for anything in your life. Why start now?"

"Sir, you need to—" started one of the officers Jack had pushed aside. He held hands open and apart and spoke in a calm voice, but Jack had given full reign to his pain and anger. Pointing his gun slowly and deliberately at the officer's forehead, he cocked it with another growl, still pinning the Doctor to the table before him.

"Back. Off. This is between me and him!"

"Jack—" started the Doctor.

"Shut up!" Jack shouted, turning back to the Doctor. "I've had enough of your lies…your misdirection and propaganda. Tell me the truth for one time in your cowardly life. Why did you do this to him? How you could do this to _me?_" He choked on the last words, unable to stop himself from glancing down at Ianto Jones, dead again and all his fault. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

"I didn't bring him here to hurt you, Jack," the Doctor said quietly, raising his head to gaze intently at Jack's face. "I remembered what happened to Mr. Jones that night, when I went back to Cardiff. Mr. Jones was going to die, and he had already been through so much. He'd already sacrificed so much." The Doctor let his head fall back with a thunk and closed his eyes. "I had to help him, because I had already done so. I never meant for this to happen."

A hundred questions raced through Jack's mind at once, confusion mingling with anger as he voiced the first one that settled on his lips. "You didn't mean for what to happen?" It wasn't the most pressing question, but it was someplace to start. As always, the Doctor spoke in maddening riddles.

"I didn't think he'd be shot on his first day!" the Doctor replied. Jack let a sob escape and let his head fall toward his chest, hiding the tears. When he looked up again, he had put on his mask, lips pressed tightly into a straight line and his face impassive.

"And you didn't think he could die?" Jack whispered fiercely. "You didn't stop to think that he's mortal? That anything could cut him down and take him just like that? _Again?" _Jack's hand was shaking as he spit out the last word with vehemence. How could the Doctor do this to him?

"I didn't," the Doctor replied softly, eyes bright with tears. He almost sounded ashamed. "No, I didn't. I tried to save him." Rather than stir forgiveness, the Doctor's defeated attitude infuriated Jack even more.

"You don't _save_ people, Doctor," Jack spat. "You use them. You chew them up and spit them out in pieces. Like you did with Martha, and with Donna, and River, and all the others. You leave death and destruction and nothing but heartbreak behind you wherever and whenever you go."

With an anger bordering on deadly incoherence, Jack pushed the Doctor across the table and to the pavement. He stood over the Time Lord, breathing heavily as he struggled for his final words to this man who had brought so much pain to his life.

The Doctor sat up, watching Jack warily, but with no fear, as if resigned to his fate. "I was trying to save _you."_

"No one can save me," Jack said, laughing bitterly. He brought his gun up once more, daring himself to do it. Behind him there was a soft gasp and murmurs from the crowd watching the scene. He ignored them. This was between him and the Doctor.

Could he do it? Could he shoot the Doctor? He was so blinded by his fury at that moment that it would only take one wrong word to push him over the edge. He'd feel no satisfaction, knowing the Doctor could regenerate and return, much like Jack did, but it would be liberating, a way to break this horrible hold the Doctor had held over him for so many years. The Doctor was the only other being in the entire universe who could even begin to understand the enormity of Jack's immortal life—of Jack's pain and suffering as the centuries ticked by. Jack knew he should hate the Doctor for what had happened to him, for what the Doctor had done to him and said to him since that horrible moment on the game station. Yet he didn't. He couldn't.

Until then. One word, and he could.

"You told me yourself, Doctor," said Jack. "I'm impossible. I'm forever. You can't save me." A deep breath allowed him to fling his accusation with all venom as he could find within. "No one can."

"I can."

The blood drained from his face, leaving him suddenly cold and pale. His throat tightened until he was almost gasping from the effort to draw breath. Already shaking hands went numb and the gun fell to the ground. Jack closed his eyes, shaking his head, refusing to look or listen or even _believe_ what he heard and felt behind him.

"Jack." It was the same voice, this time with a gentle touch to his shoulder. "Look at me."

"No," Jack whispered, swiping at tears falling from eyes still locked shut. "Don't do this to me. Not again…"

The hand put just enough pressure on his shoulder that Jack began to turn, almost without conscious thought. He sensed familiar warmth, inhaled a familiar scent in the air around him. Yet he still refused to open his eyes, pressing his palms into his face instead.

"Jack, come back to me." The voice was insistent. "Please. I need you to look at me."

He shook his head. "Not if it's an illusion," he whispered. "A trick, another tease. I can't…"

"Yes, you can." The hand moved from his shoulder to his face, callused fingers trailing along his jaw. "Open your eyes, Jack. I'm really here."

"I really am a genius," murmured the Doctor from somewhere behind him. "It worked." That, more than anything, convinced Jack to slowly open his eyes. In all his long life, he had never been so scared as he was at that moment.

"Oh god," he choked, staring into blue eyes bright with tears as well. "Ianto…"

Ianto Jones crushed his lips to Jack's, much as Jack had done earlier on the pavement when they had first met. He wrapped his arms around Jack, holding them together in a bone-crushing embrace that had Jack gasping for air and pulling away in shock.

"H…How?" he stuttered. He touched Ianto's face, his neck, his shoulders, running shaking hands down Ianto's arms until they came to where Ianto should have had a gaping hole in his side.

Only he didn't.

Jack stepped back, tripping slightly as his entire body was overcome by shaking. His knees hit the back of a café chair, and he sank into it, running unsteady hands through his hair. "How?" he asked again.

"I don't know, Jack," said Ianto. He stood back from Jack, as if afraid to approach him now. He glanced down at his right hand and carefully unwrapped the bandage from it. He held it up before him, staring at the unblemished skin with both wonder and fear.

"You were shot," whispered Jack. "You were _dead._"

"I was."

"And now you're not."

"Now I'm not." Ianto clenched his healed hand and closed his eyes before looking into Jack's face. "Jack, I'm—"

"Are you all right?" Jack interrupted.

"I'm sorry," Ianto finished.

Jack was stunned. "Don't—" he started, jumping up to reach out for Ianto, but the Doctor cut him off, finally joining the conversation after watching silently.

"Don't be sorry, Mr. Jones," said the Doctor. "It's not your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. And if you'd like me to apologize, I certainly will."

Ianto's face hardened as he turned away from Jack and confronted the Doctor. "That would depend on what you are apologizing for," he said, his words short and clipped. "I think you owe us an explanation, Doctor. Possibly several."

Jack almost snorted with delirious relief. Ianto Jones was exactly as he remembered: even in the face of disaster, even after _dying, _he was trying to stay calm and demanding answers.

The Doctor put his hands in his pockets, the gesture so familiar that Jack ached with the memories of a different Doctor in another suit, another time. But this Doctor was not stalling for time or avoiding this issue; this Doctor was gathering his thoughts.

"I tried to tell you before your…ah, friend…appeared. Mr. Jones is not like you, Jack. He's not forever." He held up a hand before either Jack or Ianto could speak. "What happened to you, Jack, that was Rose, all Rose—uncontrolled except by human love, which gave her the ability to do anything she could dream in that moment. She's very lucky she didn't die, taking that kind of power into herself." For a moment the Time Lord seemed to retreat into himself, then shook away the memories and returned.

"But I can't do what she did. Ironically enough, my abilities as a Time Lord limit me to what I can do with the vortex. She had no concept, no context for the power she was taking on, therefore the possibilities were infinite. I, however, am finite. I can't recreate what she did in that moment when she brought you back, nor would I want to. I know how hard it is, Jack." He reached out a hand to Jack's shoulder and squeezed gently. "And I'm sorry."

Jack stared at the man's hand, almost as shocked at his apology as he was at his earlier words about Ianto. It was the Welshman who spoke.

"If I'm not like Jack, what just happened?" Jack heard an underlying tension in Ianto's voice. He was trying to remain calm, but Jack knew what Ianto must have been going through. He vividly remembered the first time he had died and how confusing it had been; he had accepted it over the years, but had not understood it for over a century. At least Ianto knew immortality was possible and would be able to learn the answers to his questions right away. If the Doctor cooperated.

"You were fading, Mr. Jones. You were no longer a part of the timeline you restored." Jack looked up sharply. "Yes, Jack. Restored. Mr. Jones helped me right a very grave wrong. He saved the universe."

"You told me the same thing that night in the forest, before you left," Jack said softly, gazing at Ianto with pride. "He saved the universe, but you wouldn't tell me what it all means."

"What it says on the tin, Jack," snapped the Doctor. "He saved the universe from collapsing and ending. And because of that, he was about to die a very slow and painful death. I couldn't let that happen. I—"

"Why?" Ianto interrupted roughly. "I knew what would happen when I agreed to go with you. I knew I would fade, and I knew it would be painful."

"Ianto," Jack said, reaching out to offer support, but stopping when Ianto tensed and pulled away. "Why would you do that?"

"It was the end of the universe, Jack." Ianto half-laughed, half-sobbed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And I had nothing left to lose."

"Mr. Jones," the Doctor said warningly. What did that mean, that Ianto had had nothing left to lose? Ianto's eyes flashed before he turned back to Jack.

"Besides, I knew it wasn't the way things were supposed to be. So I knew that even if—or when—I died putting things right, there would still be another me there for you when you woke up." He drew a shaky breath. "At least, I hope he was."

"You were," Jack whispered. "You were always there for me, so many times. And even when things got really bad, you were there for me until the very end."

"Jack." This time the Doctor was warning Jack, but Jack rolled his eyes.

"It's his past, Doctor. He deserves to know. It can't change anything now."

The Doctor did not reply. Ianto glanced sadly at them both.

"I don't need to know right now, Jack. I'm glad he—or I—was able to be there for you, for however long it was. But right now I'd like to know what I am, because I'm not him. And if I'm not immortal like Jack, how did I come back?" There was fear and frustration, yet also a sense of longing in Ianto's voice.

"I needed to stabilize you," the Doctor replied. "I opened the heart of the Tardis and used the time vortex to anchor you to this timeline. I…well, I could explain it, but I suspect the more technical aspects are not as interesting as the end result."

"Which is?" demanded Jack.

"He's alive, obviously." Ianto coughed and the Doctor turned to him. "You're alive due to the energy of the time vortex. That's part of what brings back Jack when he dies, and it now seems to do the same for you. Brilliant."

"Did you know it would?" asked Ianto.

"I suspected it, yes. But you must understand, Jack is unique. He is the product of a woman desperate to save us both, a human who took in the heart of the Tardis. For a brief time she was as powerful as a goddess and, before it began to destroy her, she could use it to do anything. And she did. She defeated the Daleks and made Jack immortal."

Ianto looked uncertain, but Jack was starting to understand. "So how long?" he asked.

The Doctor nodded slowly. "I don't know. I can only guess. You are tied to the vortex itself, through the power of the Bad Wolf. Ianto is tied to the vortex through the power of the Tardis. So a very, very long time…but finite."

"And if I die, I'll come back, like Jack?" asked Ianto. Jack watched Ianto's face, wondering what the man's reaction would be when it was finally confirmed and ultimately accepted. Would he be angry, terrified, despondent? Would he blame Jack, or the Doctor, or both of them? Did he want to live for hundreds if not thousands of years? Did he want to spend them with Jack? Jack had once said he wouldn't wish his immortality on his worst enemy, but the thought of sharing it with Ianto Jones was suddenly the one thing he wanted more than anything in the universe.

"Looks like it," said the Doctor. "And I'm sorry, but it was the only way to save you." He took a deep breath and placed one hand on Jack's shoulder, one hand on Ianto's. "To save you both."

"Why?" whispered Jack, his voice quiet and rough. The simple gesture from the Time Lord surprised him; this Doctor was so very different from the Doctor he had first met, or the Doctor he had traveled to the end of the universe with. This Doctor seemed to genuinely care. His deep shock only grew as the Time Lord stepped before him and cupped his face in large hands, staring deep into Jack's eyes.

"Because everyone deserves a fairy tale, Jack. And this could be yours."

* * *

Author's Notes:  
Still not done.  
Many continued thanks to Tamaar for her patience with this chapter. It took quite a while and many, many emails to get going on it. Same with the next one. I think I have too many new ideas, plus I'm back teaching after the shortest summer ever. But when this story is complete, I have several one-shots started and a few chaptered ideas sketched out to look forward to. Thank you for still reading this story! It means so much to me to get such amazing comments. It makes it all worth letting the story out of my head for others to read. Thanks again and look for the next (and mostly likely, the last) chapter soon!


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

XXI. _Love is not a feeling of happiness. Love is a willingness to sacrifice. ~Michael Novak_

The Doctor's words ricocheted across Ianto's mind, an endless echo that he desperately tried not to hear or feel, or even acknowledge, let alone believe.

_And this could be yours._

"No," he whispered, staring into the distance and shaking his head as if the simple act of denial would make it untrue.

_A fairytale._

"No," he said again, his voice cracking. "It can't be. It's not possible."

_It's not real. They don't exist._

But Ianto knew, deep down where the panic was desperately trying to claw its way out before he imploded with mind-numbing shock, that it was all terrifyingly real. They did exist. Right there, right then.

_The Eternal Lovers._

"This is all your fault!" Ianto exploded, letting his confusion and anger loose without hesitation. He lashed out with his healed hand, catching the Doctor on the jaw with a staggering right hook that sent the Time Lord stumbling backward. The defense officers in the area, still wary after Jack's outburst with the gun, stepped closer, hands on their weapons, but both Jack and the Doctor waved them off. Jack moved toward Ianto, reaching out to grasp his arm and calm him, but Ianto violently shook him off. He was wide-eyed and breathing heavily, but he figured he was due for some sort of breakdown after all he'd been through, so he was going to make it worthwhile.

"Ianto, I know what he did was wrong," Jack started, reaching out again. Ianto pushed him away and waved his hands in the air, physically venting his fear and disbelief.

"No, you don't understand at all, Jack. You weren't there. You were dead."

"Ianto," warned the Doctor again, but Ianto ignored the admonition, pointing at the Doctor and feeling his lips curl in anger.

"Shut up," he hissed. "This is your fault in a dozen different ways, and I'll do whatever I have to do to make it right!"

"You can't make it right," the Doctor said, his voice heavy. "Not the way you want to."

"I can and I will, and you will not stop me!" snapped Ianto. He turned to Jack, who appeared confused and anxious about their exchange. "You died."

"More times than I can count," Jack replied.

"No, I mean you really died after that night in the forest, Jack. Permanently." Ianto watched the emotions play across Jack's face in slow motion: surprise, relief, then confusion…and finally the slow burn of anger as he started to piece it all together.

"I died," he said softly, then turned toward the Doctor. "You said you restored the timeline to right a very grave wrong. It was me. It was my death that was wrong." His voice was so cold that Ianto almost shivered, but the Doctor stood his ground.

"I had no choice, Jack. You are a fixed point in time. If you had died, the universe would have unraveled around you. All of creation would have been destroyed. _Everything._ We did what we had to do."

"We?" asked Jack, then turned toward Ianto. And there was the look, the one that Ianto had subconsciously dreaded since the moment he had seen Jack on the street: a look of understanding, that Jack now knew exactly what Ianto had done, but with it a look of such complete and utter despair that Ianto wanted to fall to the ground and weep. He had done this to Jack, condemned him when he could have set Jack free. This was as much Ianto's fault as it was the Doctor's.

"He told me you saved the universe," whispered Jack. His eyes were bright, but whether with pain or wonder, Ianto could not be sure. "You saved me to save the world, even though you knew you would die."

"I had no choice," Ianto managed, his voice thick with tears. "We tried everything, Jack. I went to the future, I found Parker Douglas—hell, I even asked John Hart for help—but it was too late. When I got back, you were almost gone."

"And then I died."

Ianto nodded. "You died in my arms, and you didn't wake up." He could barely get the words out; it had been the worst moment of his life, watching Jack close his eyes forever, somehow worse than watching Lisa fall before him because he had known, deep down, he would lose her. He had always believed in Jack's immortality, though, and to know that it was not absolute still shook Ianto to his core.

It suddenly struck Ianto that the man before him, this Jack living three hundred years in the future, had experienced the exact same thing: Ianto had died in Jack's arms, centuries ago. How many friends and lovers had Jack lost since then? All because of him, because Ianto had sentenced him to eternal life.

Jack swallowed thickly and was silent for a few moments. He took several deep breaths before stepping closer and reaching out one more time for Ianto's hand. This time, Ianto returned his grasp, fingers entwining with Jack's and squeezing tight.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't want to do it. I wanted so much to give you peace, to let you go. I tried to save you, but—"

"The universe wouldn't let you." Jack's eyes were bright. "I remember you saying that, in the forest that night. You knew what I would want, but you had to bring me back. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"Jack!" Ianto exclaimed, trying to extricate himself from Jack's hand, but Jack held fast and would not let him go. "How can you be apologizing? I'm the one who did this, who condemned you again. I'm the one you should hate—"

"I told you before, that night in Cardiff: I could never hate you." Jack stepped closer, and Ianto's breath caught in his throat that this man could offer such unconditional forgiveness. It had always been Jack's greatest strength, as well as his greatest weakness, and right then a part of him hated Jack for it because Ianto could not accept absolution. "I love you."

"You shouldn't," Ianto replied, unable to shake the terrible feeling within him that this was all wrong. He wanted so much to be forgiven, and to accept Jack's pardon, but he didn't deserve it. He was worse than a murderer; everything Jack had endured since that night and would endure for thousands of years to come was all Ianto's fault, because Ianto had chosen to follow the Doctor and save the universe. "I did this to you."

"You did what you had to do." Jack shook his head and offered a sad smile. "That is the one thing I understand more than anything in the universe, Ianto. You—"

"No!" Ianto shook his head, dropping Jack's hand and pacing as he tried to put together the words to explain, because it was worse than Jack could possibly know. "You don't understand at all, Jack. I not only forced you to live forever in order to save the universe, but I'm the reason you died in the first place!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Jack. He glanced from Ianto to the Doctor, who was chewing his thumb with a frown. When Ianto shook his head again and ran an anxious hand through his hair without answering, Jack turned to the Doctor. "What is he talking about?"

"I'm not sure," the Doctor replied. "Hopefully not something I should have considered earlier."

Ianto whirled on the Doctor. "Yes!" he shouted. "You should have! Because _you_ did this to me. You saved me when I should have died, and because you brought me here, Parker Douglas learned how to kill Jack."

"What?" asked Jack as the Doctor raised a curious eyebrow. "What do you mean, Parker Douglas learned how to kill me?"

"That night in the forest, Jack," Ianto said wearily. "I told you that you died. Parker Douglas shot you. You didn't heal, though. You died three days later, and the universe really did start to unravel."

"Which was why you had to go back with the Doctor and stop it from happening," said Jack, and Ianto nodded. Jack reached toward him again, obviously trying to calm Ianto, or perhaps himself. "What does that have to do with this, now, here?"

Ianto took a deep breath before answering. "When you were injured, I went to the future to find Parker Douglas," he said. "To see if I could find a way to stop whatever he had done to you. John Hart was the one who told him that you couldn't die. It reminded Douglas of a story, the story of the Eternal Lovers. He said that was how he figured out how to kill you."

"The Eternal Lovers?" asked Jack. "But they're not real. That's just a story, a—"

"A fairy tale." Ianto held Jack's eyes, willing him to make the connection, to understand. And within moments, he did, his hand coming to his lips as his eyes widened.

"You," he whispered.

"Us," Ianto replied. "It's us, Jack. Don't you see? _We're_ the Eternal Lovers. _We're_ the story Parker Douglas used to kill you three hundred years ago, but also the reason you are still immortal."

"I heard that story growing up," Jack said, eyes bright as he stared at Ianto, then away into the distance. "I loved that story. Everyone did. But we never thought it was real. It was just a legend, a myth."

"A legend that started today, when the Doctor brought me here to you and the entire street saw me stand up after Douglas shot me." Ianto turned to the Doctor. "Isn't that right?"

The Doctor was still watching them both, apparently thinking. He finally cleared his throat. "I know the story, and now that you've said something, I must say I agree. You could certainly be the origin of the myth. Time is funny like that sometimes, especially with things like this."

"You brought me here, creating the story. The story led Parker Douglas to kill Jack," said Ianto.

"And when I died, the Doctor took you back to save me, and then brought you here, creating the story and starting the cycle over again," finished Jack.

"Oh!" exclaimed the Doctor. "But that's just a stable time loop. A causes B, B causes C, and C causes A. Brilliant."

"And you're right in the middle of it," Ianto pointed out.

"As usual," Jack added. The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"It's not like I planned it," he said. "Contrary to popular belief, I do not gallivant around the universe creating time loops."

"Usually it's a paradox," Jack stage-whispered to Ianto, who rolled his eyes in spite of his deep annoyance.

"I don't think it's any one man's fault, Ianto," the Doctor said quietly, coming to stand before them. His grey-blue eyes were filled with a timeless grief that Ianto could no longer ignore. This was a man who had lived for centuries, had seen and done things Ianto could only imagine. He remembered how Jack had told him countless stories of the Doctor saving the Earth, or some other planet; Ianto had witnessed firsthand the Doctor's reluctant willingness to save the universe at any cost.

And yet, he could not forgive the Time Lord, just as he could not forgive himself.

Ianto did not speak, but merely nodded his acknowledgement of the situation for what it was: a complicated miasma of guilt and blame, heartache and pain, confusion and uncertainty. Jack should be dead, but instead Ianto had become immortal—or as close to it as possible. He glanced down at his right hand, healed of the gunshot wound and not even sore from the punch he'd thrown at the Doctor. If he broke it, would he heal as quickly as Jack healed? If he cut it off, would he grow a new hand?

The thought brought a hysterical laugh to his lips, which he only half-succeeded at suppressing, causing Jack to glance at him with concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked, watching Ianto flex his hand, as if it held the answers. Ianto shook his head once more.

"I'm so sorry, Jack." He felt like he would never be done apologizing, ever. It could be his penance, to live forever and continually atone for his actions that night. A small voice whispered to him that he didn't deserve to spend that time with Jack, and a cold realization began hammering at his brain. He closed his eyes against it, until he could no longer ignore the truth of it.

"I have to go back," Ianto whispered when Jack squeezed his hand for an answer. He did not see it, but imagined Jack's eyes going wide, his mouth forming a silent 'no' of disbelief. He continued before Jack could say anything. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve an immortal life. I should be dead."

"No!" Jack exclaimed, grabbing Ianto by the shoulders and practically shaking him. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that! You shouldn't be dead, because you shouldn't have died when you did. This is your second chance."

"Jack, I'm not that man." Ianto waited for his words to sink in, felt the minute recoil when Jack understood. "I didn't die. I don't need a second chance, let alone deserve it."

"Then think of it as my second chance!" Jack rasped, yet his voice was not angry or upset, but bordering on the edge of breaking. His eyes were bright with tears as one hand came up to Ianto's face. "Please. I loved you when I lost you. I couldn't bear to lose you again."

"Taking you back wouldn't accomplish anything," said the Doctor, quietly injecting himself into the conversation, as if he had any right to dictate Ianto's life. "It would only make things worse, Mr. Jones. For both yourself and the timeline."

Ianto felt heavy, one hand slowly moving Jack's hand from his cheek. He stepped away, his steps leaden, ignoring the Doctor for the moment. "I love you too, Jack. I've known it for a while, but losing you like that, when I thought I never would…" He trailed off, because he couldn't articulate it, and he knew he didn't have to. Jack understood more than Ianto could possibly know.

"Then stay with me!" Jack said. "You are here, now. _Alive._ We can travel across the galaxy, we can settle down, we can do whatever you want. Just stay with me." His voice caught. "Don't go. Please don't go."

It was what Jack had said after Ianto had been shot, bleeding to death in his arms. He shook his head against the pull of Jack's words, because he would not give in. He couldn't; it wasn't right. "I don't deserve you."

"And I don't deserve you," Jack whispered fiercely. "But we're all we've got…and you're all I want."

The Doctor cleared his throat then. "I'm not taking you back, Mr. Jones."

"I have to go back!" Ianto snapped, turning on the Doctor. "I shouldn't be here. I should have faded."

"It would create a paradox if you went back now," the Doctor continued, his voice casual but his eyes piercing. "You said yourself that you and Jack probably started the legend of the Eternal Lovers. That the story sent Parker Douglas back in time to kill Jack. If there is no story, he won't go back in time to kill Jack, which means you won't have to go back and save him, so I won't go back to bring you forward—"

Ianto waved him away. "Which means I was never here in the first place to go back and negate the story. I get it. Novikov self-consistency principle."

"A temporal paradox," said Jack, sounding relieved. "Reapers."

"Then let them reap me!" Ianto exclaimed. "Jack, I'm not supposed to be here!"

"Why can't you accept that you are?" Jack returned.

"Because it's my fault you're still immortal."

"And now you are as good as immortal too. Because of _me_—_my_ fault!"

Ianto could have screamed. It wasn't the fact that he was immortal, that he would live for hundreds if not thousands of years. It wasn't that he would experience that horrible feeling of being pulled from the darkness and thrown into blinding, deafening light each time he died. He would be a fool to not admit that he had wondered what it would be like, to be immortal like Jack and be able to spend an eternity by his side. If Ianto was truly honest with himself, there were times when he had longed for it. Yet now that it was reality, he wished it were still a dream.

Because immortality came with a price that was too high. He could not live forever knowing that Jack could die, but that to do so would cause the end of the universe. He could not carry the guilt of having sentenced Jack to bear the burden of the universe on his shoulders for no other reason than Jack had been made a fixed point in time against his will. Ianto had been given the chance to release Jack, but had been forced to chain him to life yet again. And he had done it knowingly, for all that he'd had no real choice in the matter; it was far worse than what Rose Tyler had done to Jack so many years ago.

It occurred to Ianto that there was an answer…he knew how Jack had died. Ianto doubted that he himself was a fixed point in time, given his slightly different connection to the time vortex; he therefore had the means to end his own torture, should he chose, without destroying the universe. He knew that Parker Douglas had spoken to John Hart after failing to kill Jack on Endymion. He knew that when Douglas had learned about Jack's immortality, he had associated it with the legend of the Eternal Lovers. He knew that Douglas had then…well, he had figured out how to kill Jack, and shot him, and Jack had died…but a normal gunshot shouldn't have killed Jack…why did Jack die from Parker's second attempt that night in the forest? Was it the gun? Was it the bullet? Was it something else?

Ianto shook his head to clear it. He felt muddled, confused…as if he knew the answers to his questions but couldn't retrieve them. It was there, he sensed it, but every time he got close, his mind came up blank. Parker Douglas had killed Jack; Ianto had saved him. He knew that, he remembered it. The problem was that he had no recollection of what exactly Douglas had done to Jack, even though he was certain he had found the answers in his quest to the future.

And just like that, he realized the source of his confusion, and his confusion changed to fury.

"You took my memories!" he hissed at the Doctor, pushing against the Time Lord's chest once, twice. "You kidnapped me, you made me immortal, and you violated my mind. Anything else you'd like to do? Or are you finished?"

The Doctor stared at him without answering, his face an unmoving mask touched with a hint of defiance. "Answer me!" Ianto shouted, pushing him again. Jack laid a hand on Ianto's arm, calming him, and Ianto stood down, breathing heavily in his anger.

"You would have told him," the Doctor finally replied. His voice was steady and even, betraying no sense of wrongdoing whatsoever.

"You don't know that," said Ianto. "And you had no right to assume it."

"I protect time," the Doctor said, weariness creeping into his tone. "Therefore I must protect fixed points in time as well." He met Ianto's eyes. "And that includes Jack."

"You don't trust me," Ianto said, stepping even further away from this man who had not only changed his life, but Jack's as well. "You asked me to do this for you, you brought me here against my will, and you couldn't even let me remember why?"

"I know what it's like to live too long," the Doctor replied simply. "I understand the temptation."

"You didn't trust _me_," Jack said quietly, stepping forward. Ianto glanced sideways and saw a look of such raw disappointment on Jack's face that he was heartbroken all over again. "After all we've been through, all I've done for you, you still don't trust me. You don't believe in me."

"Jack, I'm sorry—" the Doctor started, but Jack smiled sadly as he waved him off.

"No, I understand. I really do. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I tried to make up for it," the Doctor said, his words so quiet that Ianto could barely hear them. Yet he did, and when he began to understand the Time Lord's meaning, he wasn't sure whether to be even more furious at the Doctor, or if perhaps this was the one thing the Doctor had tried to do right, even though it felt so wrong.

"I know," Jack replied. "Thank you for bringing him to me." Jack stuck out his hand, at which point Ianto realized that the Doctor was being dismissed, and that they were leaving. He was confused; he hadn't settled anything in his mind, but apparently Jack had. The Doctor appeared surprised at first, and then defeated, as if he understood that this was the end of something important.

"Live your fairytale, Jack. Become the myth you're meant to be." The Doctor inclined his head toward Ianto. "Mr. Jones…"

"I have nothing to thank you for," Ianto said flatly. He crossed his hands over his chest like a belligerent child.

"I saved your life," the Doctor pointed out.

"I didn't ask you to." Ianto didn't even shrug in reply.

"The story is a long and happy one, Mr. Jones. This could be your fairytale, too."

Ianto did not answer, and the Doctor seemed to sense Ianto's reticence. He sighed as he nodded. "Take care of each other," he said before turning away. "You've got a legend to create."

Jack stared at the Doctor, his face unreadable, before he slowly raised his right hand to his temple and saluted. They silently watched the Doctor walk away, disappearing into the crowds. Ianto was drained. He didn't know what to do or say or think anymore, and was about to collapse into the nearest chair when Jack turned to him and placed his hands on Ianto's shoulders.

"Come with me," he said, his voice earnest. "Give me six months, and if you don't want to stay, then we can…we can…"

"We can what, Jack?" Ianto asked resignedly. "You heard the Doctor. I can't go back without creating a paradox. And I wouldn't fade anyway, I know that. Not after he anchored me, _fixed_ me. I'd just be stuck there, out of time, watching you with the other me until the Reapers came to set things right."

"I know," Jack said, and he pulled Ianto into an embrace. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had this forced on you. I certainly know the feeling."

In spite of everything, Ianto couldn't help but laugh bitterly into Jack's shoulder. The local officers chose that moment to interrupt, asking if Ianto was all right or if he needed medical help after all. Jack rolled his eyes as he told the officers everything was fine. He asked to speak with the chief, explained the situation, and soon they were left alone as the officers began to clean up the scene and clear out. Ianto watched everything, feeling detached, almost unreal. The last twenty-four hours had been one of the most emotional experiences of his life, and a part of him wanted to curl up in a dark corner somewhere and wait for it all to go away.

And yet, it wouldn't. Jack had died in his arms. Ianto had traveled back in time to stop that from happening. He couldn't recall the details, but he remembered enough to know _he _had made the choice, had insisted that he be the one to do this, not for Jack, but _to_ Jack, _for_ the universe. He had expected to fade away and die when the universe was set right, but had been brought forward in time instead. And then he had been shot, and he had died, and he had come back to life with a gasp.

Like Jack. Because he was like Jack, only different.

"What are you thinking?" Jack asked quietly as they walked away from the café where Ianto's life had just changed more than he could possibly comprehend. He was silent for a long time, trying to put his thoughts in coherent form. He idly wondered where they were going, but Jack seemed to know his way. It was mid-afternoon, and it was sunny and warm, and it was a beautiful city when Ianto looked beyond the signs of recent reconstruction.

"I don't know," he finally replied. Jack guided them into a park and motioned toward a bench. Ianto fell into it and let his head fall into his hands. "Too much and nothing at all. It's so overwhelming."

"I know that feeling, too," Jack murmured.

"I just feel…wrong." It was the truth: Ianto felt out of place on that planet, in that time, in that universe. "I'm three hundred years dead and yet I'm sitting here with you, and apparently I'll be here for quite a long time. You're three hundred years older, and yet you just asked me to go with you. I don't feel like I should be here…like I deserve any of this…it feels wrong."

Jack was quiet for a while as well. When he spoke, he did not glance at Ianto, nor touch him. He gazed across the park, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"I still feel wrong almost every day," he began. "The Doctor told me I was wrong, you know, that I was an impossible thing. Believe me when I say I am probably the only person in the universe who understands exactly what you are going through—making the gut-wrenching decisions and living with the guilt, waking up after an energy blaster leaves you bleeding out on the street." He chanced a sideways glance at Ianto and quirked a smile before continuing.

"You were one of a very few special people who, for a time, made me feel less wrong, less impossible. You knew my secret and accepted it, didn't let it hold you back. You held me when I came back, soothed the nightmares, tried so hard to give me the normal life I didn't even know I wanted, the normal life Torchwood never let us have."

Ianto sat up straighter and stared at Jack. He had rarely, if ever, heard Jack speak so openly and so articulately about his feelings, and it was both an amazing and frightening thing. Jack took a deep breath, reached for Ianto's hand, and kept talking.

"We have another chance, Ianto. A chance for a normal life—or as near to normal for men like us—outside of Torchwood. I want to do that for you, _with_ you. I want to make you feel less wrong, and hold you when you revive, and live that normal life _together_. Here, in this time, for as long as we possibly can."

"Why?" Ianto barely managed to croak. "It's been so long for you…" He trailed off, not wanting to finish because he didn't really want to know the answer.

"You were never just a blip in time," said Jack, smiling wistfully as if remembering something long lost. "And the Doctor once told me that you'd save me. I think this is what he meant." He was gazing into Ianto's eyes with such intensity that Ianto wanted to look away, but couldn't. When Jack leaned closer, Ianto held his breath.

"Save me, Ianto Jones. And I will save you."

* * *

Author's Note:

Many thanks to Tamaar for once again bearing the burden of so many questions and emails about this chapter, for the beta job, and for the wonderful off topic conversations we wander into as well. And the recipes and wine recommendations.

The next chapter will conclude this story. Thank you for sticking with it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. I look forward to sharing the end with you soon!


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue - Six Months Later

_Dreams do come true, if we only wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.  
~J.M. Barrie_

The night was cold and damp, typical for winter in Cardiff during the 21st century, but generally a bad night to be out, and a much better night to be inside. To watch a movie, lie by the fire, or curl up with tangled limbs in bed. Instead, Jack stood beneath the eaves of the trees in Bute Park and watched as his past self raced by, running down a pack of alien hellhounds and swearing under his breath as he pounded through the dark. He remembered how Gwen and Owen had gone after a lone runner, while he and Ianto had continued after the other two creatures, turning left and sprinting across the frost-covered grass. He watched as they crashed through a copse of trees and burst into a clearing, where they stopped in their tracks, the wrong end of a gun pointed at them.

He remembered it all, as if it had happened the day before and not three hundred years ago for him.

"This is surreal," whispered Ianto, standing beside him and watching the scene unfold. Jack nodded in agreement.

"I know," he replied quietly. "And I've done my share of time traveling." He'd never had the opportunity to go back and view his own past like this, however. Surreal was an apt description.

"Why are we here?" Ianto asked after another long moment, the confrontation continuing to play out before them.

"That, I don't know," Jack replied. They watched in silence as the Jack from the past grinned and pulled out his Webley, but Parker Douglas was quicker, and Ianto flinched as his past self was shot.

"That really hurt," he murmured.

Jack took Ianto's hand in his, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. "Not even a scar, though."

Ianto rolled his eyes and turned back toward the clearing. His past self had wrapped the injured hand in his tie and was standing next to Jack, glaring at Parker Douglas. After a few more angry words, Douglas raised his gun once more. Beside him, Jack felt Ianto tense, and he squeezed the other man's hand in understanding. It was strange enough for Jack to watch himself _almost _get shot; Ianto had seen it actually happen, to fatal consequence, in another timeline.

From his vantage point, Jack saw a blur as a man barreled out of the trees and knocked his past self down. Parker Douglas's bullet flew harmlessly through the air, and the former Time Agent screamed in fury.

"No! Not you again!"

At the time, Jack had not understood Douglas's enigmatic words. So much had happened that night that he had almost forgotten about them, setting it aside as a small, insignificant part of the mystery. Yet now he understood. Six months earlier, Parker Douglas had found Jack on the planet of Endymion. He had tried to shoot Jack with an energy pistol, but Ianto had jumped in front of him, taking the blast instead.

That was the first time Parker Douglas had tried to kill Jack; this was the second, and he had apparently come prepared.

Jack watched as Ianto—the other Ianto, the one on his knees whom Jack had lost so long ago—pulled a second weapon from his ankle holster and shot Parker Douglas. Jack nudged the man next to him with his shoulder and grinned.

"Nice shot."

"Wasn't actually me," Ianto retorted.

"Sure looks like you," Jack replied, pretending surprise.

"Jack."

"I still can't believe I had two of you, right there, and nothing happened."

"I was there to save you, Jack, not pull a threesome."

Jack laughed and pulled Ianto closer, grateful when the other man did not shy away. They watched as the younger looking version of the Doctor stepped out of the trees and used his sonic screwdriver to knock Ianto unconscious as past Jack stared up at the man on his chest.

"I can't watch this," Ianto whispered beside him. He let his head fall to his chest and his eyes slip shut. "That was one of the most difficult moments of my life."

"I know," Jack murmured into his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. But Ianto didn't watch. Jack heard the other Doctor—their current Doctor, so to speak—step up behind them.

"You should watch, Mr. Jones. This is why I brought you here." The Doctor spoke in the same enigmatic riddles as ever, and Jack saw Ianto's jaw tighten. He had not wanted to come, had not wanted to even speak to the Doctor. After all that had happened, Ianto could not forgive the Doctor for what he had done—and not to Ianto, but to Jack.

Which was yet another reason Jack loved him.

Ianto turned and glared at the Doctor over his shoulder. "I was there, Doctor," he snapped. "I remember it. You didn't take _this_ memory." He gestured angrily at the scene, and Jack held back a sigh. The Doctor had tampered with Ianto's memories, something else that Ianto could not forgive.

"I didn't, no. Because I didn't need to. But you should watch nonetheless, Mr. Jones. Both of you."

Ianto turned hard eyes forward, and Jack stood next to him, holding him tight.

He watched as his past self stared up at Ianto, as Ianto leaned forward and kissed him passionately. It occurred to him that this Ianto, the one he was watching and who was now standing beside him, had thought he was kissing Jack for the last time that night. Ianto had lost him, for Jack had _died_ in another timeline, but then Ianto had been given one more chance to see Jack when he went back to save him, knowing it was only to say goodbye. Jack watched with tears in his eyes as the Ianto before them stuttered an apology and begged forgiveness for what he had done. Beside him, Ianto closed his eyes once more.

Then the other Ianto stood and walked away. The younger Doctor knocked Jack's past self unconscious just as his future regeneration appeared in the Tardis. Jack almost laughed as he realized that right then, at that moment, there were three versions of the Doctor, three versions of Ianto Jones, and two versions of Jack in the forest at that time. It was a miracle the timeline wasn't more screwed up than it was.

Time travel was so complicated sometimes.

Jack watched as the Doctor and Ianto met the older man. It was like watching a movie and being part of it at the same time. Ianto walked away from the confrontation but collapsed, crying out in agony as the two Doctors ran toward him. Jack couldn't help his reaction: his hand came to his mouth, his brow furrowed as he watched Ianto begin to fade.

It was subtle at first, barely noticeable except for the obvious pain that brought Ianto to his knees as he wretched over the forest floor. And then it was as if Ianto was slowly unraveling, the very essence of his being growing lighter and lighter, as if he were a ghost, and then breaking away to drift into the night, a hazy cloud of the light that was the heart and soul of Ianto Jones returning to the womb of the universe. It must have been torture, to feel his very atoms breaking apart, and Ianto writhed on the ground in anguish. Jack forced himself to stay focused and watch, even though he wanted to look away. Ianto had known this was his fate when he'd made his choice to go back with the Doctor, yet he had been willing to endure it for Jack, and for the universe. The very least that Jack could do was bear witness to Ianto's sacrifice.

The man next to him turned around, unable to watch. Jack could only imagine both the physical and emotional pain Ianto had gone through at that moment; watching it had to be almost as bad as reliving it. Past Ianto cried out again, the agony of temporal fading reverberating through the trees. Beside Jack, Ianto shuddered and hung his head. Jack reached out for his hand once more.

"It's all right," he murmured. "You survived."

Ianto remained silent, nodding as he closed his eyes. Jack watched as the older Doctor picked up Ianto and hurried toward the Tardis, the younger Doctor protesting as he followed.

_"We have to save them,"_ the older Doctor snapped as he stepped into the Tardis. And then:

_"I know they've sacrificed enough."_

With a whir of sound, the Tardis disappeared, leaving the younger Doctor standing there alone, watching his future regeneration travel to another time and place—to Endymion in the 24th century—with Ianto. Jack blinked tears out of his eyes and turned toward the man standing behind him.

"Why are we here?" he asked. The Doctor clasped his hands behind his back.

"Keep watching."

Ianto looked ready to offer an angry retort, but settled for a glare before turning around to join Jack once more. The man who was lying on the forest floor unconscious soon came awake, and they watched as Jack spoke with the younger version of the Doctor. This time it was Jack who felt the sting of those memories, of that conversation. It had been obvious that something important had happened, something involving him and Ianto, but the Doctor had refused to explain anything.

The only thing the Doctor had told him was something that stayed with Jack for hundreds of years.

_"But I do believe that someday he will save you."_

For centuries, Jack had waited to learn what that meant. He had kept it close to his heart, hoping against hope that it meant _something_. Now he was standing here with Ianto, hoping that what the Doctor had said that night would finally make sense.

Jack turned and glanced at the grey-haired Doctor behind him, exchanging a look that spoke volumes. He thought he might finally understand, even if Ianto had to explain it to him, but a sideways glance at Ianto showed him a man still conflicted, still confused—and still wracked with guilt. Ianto frowned, about to open his mouth to speak, when the Doctor shook his head and turned him around.

"Keep watching. This is the good part."

Even Jack found the statement irritating. Why were they watching this? They had both lived it, albeit from slightly different perspectives. What did the Doctor hope to accomplish by showing up six months after leaving them on Endymion, demanding they return to this point in time with him, and then watch the past replay itself?

The younger Doctor walked off into the trees, and past Ianto woke up. It was the man Jack had lost at Thames House, who had stayed by his side through so much: through Tosh's death, and Owen's second death, through Gray and the Daleks, and finally the 456. The man awakening on the forest floor was the man Jack had loved through it all, though he had never said it—the man Jack had promised to never forget, the man he had mourned for centuries.

The man beside him had been torn out of time before any of those things had happened; instead, he had experienced something else over the past six months of his life, the six months Jack had asked Ianto to stay with him. This man had traveled to the future and to the past. He had journeyed among the stars, visiting planets he'd only ever catalogued in his archives back on Earth. This man had run from the Slaken in the jungles of Lumana with Jack, fought Hakolians and Blathereen by Jack's side. He had held Jack's body after a sabrewolf ripped out his throat, and he had died in Jack's arms before gasping back to life after getting shot in the heart by a fission gun.

This was also the man who had saved the universe by sacrificing everything.

And yet…Ianto Jones was still Ianto Jones. Jack had thought he had lost him, but then found him in another time…just as the man beside him, who had lost Jack and then found him in the future as well. They were so very much alike.

As he watched his past self talk with the other Ianto, Jack felt it all trying to click into place, though the endgame remained elusive and out of reach. It was frustrating, trying to understand, yet still failing to grasp at the meaning of it all. Shaking his head of negative thoughts, Jack focused on the scene before him, memories overlapping reality.

Jack watched as his past self pulled Ianto into a fierce embrace. _"…I do _not_ want to leave you. Not now, not yet." _

Past Ianto returned the sentiment, holding Jack tightly as he rested his head on Jack's shoulder. When he raised his eyes, he looked right at Jack and Ianto, who were watching from the shadows of the forest. His expression betrayed the barest hint of recognition and surprise, followed quickly understanding that melted into relief. He smiled and pulled back, tenderly caressing the other Jack's jaw. _"You won't."_

_"How do you know?"_ Jack remembered whispering those words, desperate for some sort of reassurance.

_"I don't,"_ past Ianto replied. _"But whatever happens, it's meant to be, and it'll be all right. Perhaps my time traveling self will appear again."_

Jack gasped, and felt the deep intake of breath beside him that told him that the other man had heard the statement as well. He stood rooted in place, stunned as Ianto's next words flowed over him.

_"And then I will save you. As many times as it takes."_

Beside him, Ianto dropped his hand in shock and took several steps backward, shaking his head in denial. Jack glanced back at the forest, but knew from memory there would be nothing more of interest to witness: he and Ianto had soon helped Gwen and Owen back to the SUV, and they had returned to Torchwood to treat Ianto's wound. When Jack had returned to finish tracking down the hellhounds and retrieve Parker Douglas's body, there had been no trace of either.

"Ianto?" Jack asked cautiously, desperately hoping that the other man was not about to panic. Ianto was wide-eyed and breathing quickly.

"He knew," Ianto said, referring to his past self as a separate person because he did not have the same memories. "He knew I would survive and find you."

Jack shook his head. "No, there was no way he could have known everything. He didn't know what he saw. He just…hoped, perhaps."

"Jack…" Ianto trailed off and closed his eyes before opening them. They were filled with a brightness that spilled a single tear down Ianto's pale cheek. He shook his head, apparently unable to finish the thought, or even look at Jack, because he turned to the Doctor. But to Jack's surprise, there was no longer any anger or resentment in Ianto's face.

"He promised," Ianto whispered. "He promised to save Jack. You helped him…you helped _me_…to fulfill that promise."

The Doctor nodded solemnly.

"How did you know?" Ianto's voice broke on the question, as if it was all too much to bear.

The Doctor inclined his head toward the darkness of the forest. From the nearby shadow of a tree stepped the younger version of the Doctor, still in his brown suit and trainers, hands tucked into his pockets.

"Didn't you two just leave this little party?" he asked lightly. Ianto stared, and Jack with him, and they both turned toward the older Doctor.

"They needed to see something," he said, raising a bushy eyebrow at his younger self. "And so did you."

"Ianto Jones," said the younger Doctor. "You didn't fade, then?" When Ianto nodded in mute reply, the Time Lord grinned. "That's because I'm brilliant. I had a feeling this might happen, didn't I, Jack?"

"_I do believe that someday he will save you,"_ whispered Jack, quoting the Doctor's words back at him.

The Doctor huffed a bit, running a hand through his dark hair in a familiar gesture. "I know what I'm talking about when I make those mysterious little remarks."

"I've wondered what it meant for centuries," said Jack, breathing deeply and holding back the impulse to grab the man and shake him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The younger Doctor gave him a surprised look. "Because I didn't know for sure when I said it. But now I do." He nodded to himself. "Now I know," he murmured.

"And I trust you won't forget?" asked the older Doctor, pining his earlier regeneration with a piercing stare.

"I don't know, do we forget in our old age?" asked the other with a cheeky grin, and the older Doctor grimaced.

"Yes, but we remember when we come back the first time," he replied. "Which is one reason why I came back again."

"Right, right." The Doctor in brown rocked on his toes, and Jack tried to suppress a smile at the man's boundless enthusiasm. "You had to come back again because you remembered coming back."

"But why?" asked Jack. It was another time loop of sorts, and he was fine with that, but he still wasn't sure exactly what the point of it was, other than to do what had already been done in order for it to happen the way it had already happened. He shook his head; sometimes even his mind had trouble wrapping itself around the complexity—and vocabulary—of time travel.

And then Ianto spoke, and it all made sense.

* * *

"But why?" asked Jack, glancing back and forth between the Doctors. He clearly did not understand, but that was because for once it had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with Ianto. And Ianto understood. He knew what it all meant now, understood all the thoughts he had struggled with over the past six months of traveling with Jack. In one brilliant instant, he felt more certain of this one thing than he ever had in his life, and it filled him with joy.

"So I could see it," Ianto said, stepping forward and nodding toward the clearing where Jack and his other self—the one who had later died—were standing in the dark. "See him, the other me." Jack's eyes were still shuttered and confused, but Ianto knew his were reflecting the spark of hope and awareness filling his entire being. "So I would know."

"Know what?" asked Jack, and Ianto laughed out loud with sheer delight at the way the universe worked, rushing forwards and backwards and tripping back onto itself in order to make sure that everything was _right, _that life turned out exactly the way it was supposed to be.

"I made a promise, Jack," said Ianto, and he smiled because it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt lighter and more free than he ever had before. "Or, my other self did. He promised to save you, as many times as it takes. And that's why I'm here, to fulfill that promise. The one that _I_ made, this night in the forest." He took a deep breath and met Jack's eyes with as much love and devotion as he could convey with just a look, unable to resist a small smirk when Jack's eyes went wide and he almost pulled away from the intensity flowing between them. "If you will let me."

It felt as if time had shuddered to a stop around them, and perhaps it had; Ianto had been through enough time loops and bubbles and resets to believe just about anything was possible, especially when Jack was involved. He hated the melodrama of it, but Ianto had to admit, however reluctantly, that this moment was probably the most important decision of his life—and Jack's. What they chose to do from this moment forward would affect both of them for hundreds if not thousands of years. That staggering insight caught Ianto's breath in his throat as his heart beat frantically against his chest. He had not only offered his life to Jack, but he had offered it for almost an eternity.

And yet…it felt right. It was what he was supposed to do, what he was _meant_ to do. He had been moving toward this since Jack had died forever in his arms in the timeline he had left behind. His conscience might push him to redeem his profound sense of guilt by watching over Jack for as long and as best as he could, but his heart rejoiced because it was exactly what he wanted more than anything, deep in his soul.

Just him, Jack, and the endless possibilities of the universe laid before them as they traveled the stars together.

Jack looked shell-shocked, more stunned, perhaps, than Ianto had ever seen him. His eyes were wide and filled with an emotion that Ianto could not quite name. Shock? Shame? Fear? As Jack remained speechless, Ianto's mind turned over all the possibilities for the other man's silence, latching onto the one he dreaded the most: Jack did not want him. He did not want to be with Ianto as much as Ianto wanted—no, _needed_—to be with Jack. Ianto would spend the rest of his long life with Jack if he could, but one day he would die, and Jack would continue on alone, even if it were thousands upon thousands of years in the future. What if Jack was already thinking of that day? What if Jack did not want to take that risk, endure that heartbreak again?

Ianto wanted more than anything to take Jack's hands and tell him it was worth it, that it would be all right, but he knew better than to pressure Jack Harkness into anything. Instead he took another breath and simply held out his hand before him, hoping against hope that Jack would take it and not leave him standing there, alone for the rest of his long life. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to still the thumping of his heart as he watched and waited, trying to glimpse some hint of Jack's thoughts as blue eyes continued to stare into his.

"Jack?" he whispered, unable to bear it any longer. When Jack didn't reply, Ianto let his hand fall back to his side, his heart breaking into pieces within him. He nodded bleakly. "I know. Forever is a long time. I'm sorry," he said. He could not meet Jack's gaze and stepped backwards, not wanting to hear it from Jack's lips. "It's too much to ask. I—"

Jack surged forward, grabbing Ianto's hand in a viselike grip and squeezing even harder. "Don't you walk away from me, Ianto Jones," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. "Don't you ever leave me—not now, not a hundred years from now, not a thousand years from now."

Ianto's eyes slipped closed with relief; for one devastating moment he'd thought he had lost everything. Yet when he opened his eyes, he found Jack before him, pulling him close and gazing at him with such depth of feeling that it took Ianto's breath away.

"I'll try my best, sir," Ianto murmured, unable to refrain from dry humor as his entire body hummed with joy. Jack growled in response and closed the gap between them before enveloping Ianto in a searing kiss that set his skin on fire. He was fairly sure he tasted the salt of tears on Jack's lips and wasn't completely sure that his own weren't mixed in as well. He laughed again with the abandon of complete and utter bliss. Jack pulled back, eyeing him curiously before joining him, then laying their foreheads together as they gave in to the feelings consuming them.

A cough from behind them found them catching their breath and wiping their eyes. Ianto turned to find both Doctors watching them with fondness and exasperation.

"Right," said the younger Doctor. "I'm off, then. Done my bit to save the world again. I should be going, leave you two to your happy ending" —he grimaced and made a vague sort of gesture toward Jack and Ianto—"and you to your own timeline." He frowned at the older Doctor. "Let's not make a habit of meeting like this. It makes things confusing."

"Indeed," said the older Doctor. "I am well aware of the rather annoying obligation of having to do something simply because I remembered it already happening." He raised a bushy eyebrow. "Did you get the body?"

"I'll do it right now," the other Doctor replied. He placed his hands in his pockets and winked. "You certainly have a good memory."

The Doctor Ianto had arrived with actually snorted. "No, I just have a strong sense of responsibility when it comes to preserving the timeline." Ianto watched as the younger Doctor stole a glance at Jack before he turned toward the older man, his body stiff and his eyes cold.

"I think you know that I am just as concerned with the timeline as you are," he replied, his voice low and serious.

"Then take it from someone with more experience than you can possibly imagine: responsibility and concern should always be tempered with respect and compassion." The other Doctor replied just as evenly; both men stared at one another, the air almost crackling with energy before the older Doctor finished so quietly that Ianto almost missed what he said. "Especially with those you love."

There was more silence before the younger Doctor nodded, face blank, but body indicating both acknowledgement and acceptance. "I bow to your experience, then. I hope our future goes well."

The older man ducked his head, but Ianto saw a hint of a smile cross his face. "Tell River hello for me."

"River?"

"You'll know as soon as you meet her."

The younger Doctor nodded absently as he turned to leave. He tipped his head to Jack and Ianto with a smile. "I'm sure we'll meet again, though I may look a bit different." He paused, and what Ianto could only describe as genuine affection filled his eyes. "Take care of one another. That's what this is all about, after all."

Jack offered his small salute, apparently too choked up to speak. Ianto thought about thanking the Doctor, but decided he still wasn't ready. This was the man who had refused to allow Jack to die, after all. He had helped Ianto condemn Jack to eternal life, even if he had granted a shadow of it to Ianto in return. There were times when Ianto wasn't sure his forced longevity was anything to be thankful for, but then he remembered the look on Jack's face when they had first met on Endymion, or the feel of Jack's lips as they snogged like teenagers in a bunk on a star cruiser, or touch of Jack's hand on his back, his shoulder, his cheek. Ianto knew without a doubt that he _would _have chosen this, had he been given the choice, but he could not thank the Doctor, not when that choice had been made for him.

Ianto inclined his head in farewell, and the Doctor left. They heard the sound of the Tardis disappearing into the night, and their Doctor sighed.

"He's going to have a difficult night," he said, as if recalling the distant past. Which, in truth, it was. The Doctor was as old as Jack, for Jack had apparently spent almost two thousand years buried alive by his brother. He hated counting those years against his age as he had been unconscious for most of them. Yet Ianto could clearly see the weight of time resting heavily on both their shoulders, and idly wondered what he would look like in a few hundred, or several thousand, years.

The Doctor shook himself of dark memories and motioned them back into the trees toward the Tardis they had arrived in. As they walked, Jack held Ianto's hand tight, but glanced sideways at the Doctor with a smile on his face.

"So you brought us all the way back to this point in time because you remembered meeting yourself again?"

"No, I brought you back because _you_ remembered it."

"Sorry, what?" asked Ianto, though Jack was shaking his head and holding back a laugh.

"This happened hundreds and hundreds of years ago for me," the Doctor replied, gesturing around the forest, to Wales, to Earth. "I have a good memory, but even for me the little things fade away over the millennia. You know that, Jack. We're almost even, you and I." There was a rare twinkle in the man's eyes that made Jack laugh out loud.

"So if you didn't remember this little meeting, how did you know to bring us back?" asked Ianto.

They had reached the Tardis, where the Doctor leaned against the door, hands crossed over his long, dark jacket. He smiled as his calm gaze shifted between them, his face softer than it had been earlier.

"After I left Endymion six months ago in your timeline, I ran into you again. Both of you, several hundred years in your future." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "Thank you for your help with the Ice Warriors," he added. Ianto waited for a wink, but this Doctor did not wink; apparently they had a confrontation with Ice Warriors to look toward in their future.

"Noted," said Jack. "And you're welcome. So how did _we _end up sending you back?"

"Simple. Once you realized where I was compared to your timeline, you told me to, because you knew I would forget. And I had. So now I'm telling you to remind me to bring you back here when we meet up on Achelois several hundred years from now."

"Also noted," said Jack. Ianto glanced skeptically at him, but he grinned and put his arm around Ianto's shoulder.

"It's that timey-whimey thing again, Ianto. Just go with it."

"I'm trying." He affected a dramatic sigh, but couldn't suppress a smirk when Jack laughed and placed a kiss to his neck.

"Now, tell me where you'd like to go." The Doctor pierced them with an intense look. "It's time to start living, not waiting."

Ianto looked at Jack, who looked back at him with equal uncertainty. After a moment of silence, Ianto opened his mouth as a thought took shape, but Jack shook his head and stopped him as if reading his mind.

"We can't stay here," he said, sounding as reluctant as Ianto to accept his words. "We'd be crossing both of our timelines. We can't go earlier and risk changing history, and I've already lived through the next two centuries and would rather not run into myself—young or old. We should go back to the 24th century, try to stay linear."

"Of course," Ianto murmured. He couldn't help his disappointment. Being back on Earth and seeing his past self in Cardiff brought back so many memories that he was overwhelmed by the desire to stay, to start over and live his life as it could have been, not the life cut short by drug dealing aliens intent on kidnapping Earth's children.

"I'll let you talk it over for a few minutes," the Doctor said. "I'll be ready when you are." He let himself into the Tardis and shut the door behind him, leaving Jack and Ianto outside on the cold winter's night, gazing around the forest where it had all started.

"I miss it," said Ianto, though he felt like he was stating the obvious. "Do you ever miss it?"

Jack pressed a kiss to Ianto's temple. "I do. This was my home for longer than any other place in the galaxy. I missed it for years after I left, and I missed you for years after that."

With a roll of his eyes, Ianto settled his head on Jack's shoulder. "Sentimental sop."

"That's me," Jack laughed softly, his breath brushing gently against Ianto's hair. Ianto turned so that they were face to face.

"I wish we could stay," Ianto said. "I would have liked to have lived a bit of this life here in Cardiff. You know, together." He paused and offered a wry smile. "Especially without Torchwood tagging along as a third wheel."

"That was Torchwood," Jack agreed. "But we did have a bit of that life, at times, when Torchwood left us to it."

"You did," Ianto amended. He had learned not to be jealous of his other self, the one who had walked away with Jack in the forest. That man might have stayed with Jack here on Earth, but they'd had such a short time together that Ianto couldn't begrudge either one of them the experience. He was too thankful to have a second chance, one that he didn't feel like he deserved, but was determined to live to its fullest.

"I did," Jack said, then kissed him briefly. "With you. And now I get to do it again. With you." He grinned at his word play, and Ianto once again rolled his eyes.

"So, Ianto Jones," Jack said, pulling them flush together. "Where do you want to go? The wonder of the universe is yours to explore. Only your imagination holds you back."

Ianto glanced around the forest once more. He thought of Torchwood and the others back at the Hub, of Cardiff and his family. He remembered the most random things from his childhood: his father's store in Newport, his grandparents' house in Sully, and the time he broke his leg on the swings at the park down the street. The scent of the Bay, the sounds of a rugby match at Millenium Stadium, the taste of fish and chips on the Quay—all of it came back to him in a visceral rush. And then he thought of Jack and how he would never have met Jack Harkness if he had not come back to Wales.

"What's Cardiff like in the 24th century?" he asked, hoping against hope it was a possibility, even if he wasn't sure he could stomach the inevitable changes. He immediately knew they must be bad when Jack did not answer right away.

"It's gone," Jack finally replied. "Global warming flooded the coast—New London, Cardiff, dozens of other cities. London recovered and eventually became the capital of Earth, but Cardiff…Cardiff was lost." He sighed sadly, and they held each other tight. "I'm sorry," Jack whispered.

Ianto took a deep breath and thought. "What about the colonies? You said there was a New London, a New Paris, a New Glasgow. I should think that if Scotland had a second chance among the stars, Wales deserved one as well."

It was too much to hope for, that out there in the dark reaches of 24th century outer space, a New Cardiff existed somewhere in peace, with no Rift, no Weevils, no Torchwood. Jack's face scrunched up as he tried to remember.

"We could go to New Splott," he suggested. Ianto let his eyes fall shut and groaned.

"You have got to be joking. All that's left of Cardiff three hundred years from now is a pathetic off-world reference to an ill-named suburb?" Jack was taking the piss, but Ianto noticed it too late and laughed at himself for falling for it.

"There really isn't," Jack laughed with him. "But now that you mention it, there is a small planet in the Mabon cluster. I've never been there, but I've heard it's a nice place—beautiful, peaceful, good people. New Caerleon." He paused and leaned close. "Maybe if I'm lucky they'll all sound like you."

Ianto felt his heart skip a beat as that feeling of _'This is right, this is what is supposed to be'_ flooded through him once more. The possibilities were endless as his life spread before him, beginning with New Caerleon. He took Jack's hand and grinned as he pulled Jack toward the Tardis. "Then let's go. I know you love the accent."

"I love you," said Jack, his voice quiet and serious. Ianto nodded.

"I know that too."

Jack held him back, his eyes serious. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, and Ianto wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the vulnerability he heard in Jack's simple question, so much more expressed in his voice than in his words.

"Are you?" Ianto asked, and Jack nodded without hesitation.

"I've been waiting for this for six months," he said, laughing nervously. "And before that I waited for three hundred years. But I can keep waiting if you aren't sure this is what you want."

"This is what I want, Jack," Ianto whispered against his lips. "More than anything, and I wouldn't change it for the world."

He crushed his lips to Jack's, whispering those three priceless words on the stoop of the Tardis as they prepared to leave the 21st century. He took Jack's hand, opened the door, and almost as one they stepped into their future, echoes of the past swirling around them as a new life opened before them.

A new life together, for as close to forever as time would grant them.

_ Love is the emblem of eternity: it confounds all notion of time, effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end.  
__ ~Anne-Louise-Germaine de Staël_

* * *

Author's Note:

The End!

I can't believe this is the end of Jack and Ianto's story. When you think about it, it is also a new beginning, but for me, this is the end of the tale. As far as I'm concerned, they live happily ever after, with some bumps and bruises along the way and all kinds of amazing and harrowing adventures.

I had once thought to write a separate chapter with nothing but my final author's note, but I don't want to end on an uneven number of chapters, or disappoint anyone who was expecting more. And it would mostly encompass several pages of effusive, embarrassing thanks to my beta, Tamaar. I seriously could not have done this without her.

I approached her rather out of the blue in January, asking if she might be interested and/or available in helping me with this crazy, complicated story I had. "Lots of time travel, and I'm going to kill Jack," I told her. And she jumped in immediately, fielding all sorts of emails from me about this story. She has not only nitpicked the spelling, grammar, and punctuation, but offered immeasurable advice when it came to plot, character, and especially time travel. There were so many small moments when I was wondering, "So does it go this way or this way?" and she guided me in the right direction by asking more questions, pointing out the pros and cons of each choice, and supporting me completely no matter which way I took the story.

I have been dying to reveal her biggest success, though. When Parker Douglas showed up on Endymion in the 24th century and killed Ianto, I was in a bind. It was something I knew happened because I saw it so clearly. Yet I also knew Ianto had a bit of the vortex anchoring him now, and if Douglas had another bullet like the one that killed Jack, it would kill Ianto as well. And as was clearly established by that point, there was no cure. I also couldn't understand why Douglas would show up in the 24th century with a regular gun to try to kill Jack when he knew Jack was immortal and had already tried to kill him with his special bullet in the 21st century.

Which was when the always amazing Tamaar sent a simple email and suggested that I simply reverse the attempts. Douglas first tried to kill Jack in the 24th century, jumped ahead where he found out Jack's big secret from John, then went back to the 21st century to really kill Jack. Hence the "Not again!" when Ianto pushes Jack out of the way. I wrestled with it a lot since it hadn't been in the cards from the beginning, but it was too cool a twist not to run with. And it was hers. Credit where credit is due, for that and much more.

We had so many long talks about the nature of time travel and temporal paradoxes I suspect we are more than qualified for our own vortex manipulators now. Hopefully we kept our ducks in a row, because by the end keeping track of two doctors, two Jacks, and three Iantos was making my head hurt. Yet as difficult as it is, time travel is one of the most amazing things to write when it works out the way it is supposed to.

This has been my most ambitious story in the Torchwood fandom, rivaled by only one other in my Harry Potter oevre. I am remarkably happy with it and feel a great sense of accomplishment. I hope you, dear readers, enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, through all its twists and turns, ups and downs, deaths and resurrections. Do let a girl know, and be sure to include a shout-out for the wonderful, talented, brilliant Tamaar as well.

Until my next big story, thank you for all your amazing support!


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